Stay or Leave
by Maribells
Summary: Because Blair isn't the only one with a choice to make. My version of the S5 finale and beyond. Rated T/M.
1. Chapter 1

A note of warning: this story begins in late S5, with all that implies, based on spoilers/current storylines. However, this is still a Chuck/Blair story, and any other relationships will be incidental and limited.

**Chapter 1**

_Remember we used to dance_  
><em>And everyone wanted to be<em>  
><em>You and me<em>  
><em>I want to be too…<em>

_-DMB_

Blair gazed out over the dance floor, her eyes drifting over the sea of tuxedos and richly-hued formal gowns. Couples turned and swayed, their movements guided by the lilting melody of a waltz, as they moved across the polished hardwood in unison. Conversation and laughter peppered the air, mingling with the sounds of the string orchestra and the chime of silver against fine china.

If she unfocused her eyes and let her mind wander, it was just another gala, another formal affair in a lifetime full of such events.

But her eyes were drawn to one figure in particular. He circled the dance floor with ease, moving with an effortless grace that almost disguised the deliberation of his movements, the taut control that emanated from every inch of his body.

The impeccable cut of his tuxedo, the thick, dark wave of his hair, the sharp definition of his jaw, all gave him the look of a man from a bygone era. The star of an old Hollywood movie, perhaps.

Blair watched as Lily leaned in to murmur something against his ear, the shine of her platinum hair contrasting handsomely with his dark locks- and he chuckled in response, with that affectionate little quirk of his mouth and softening of his eyes that she knew so well.

She missed seeing him smile like that.

She missed _making_ him smile like that, she admitted to herself.

Suddenly their eyes met, the contact producing a spark of electricity even across a crowded ballroom- and in an instant, she saw the happiness fade from his expression. It was replaced with guarded wariness, a tight-lipped smile of acknowledgement that didn't quite reach his eyes.

She felt her heart pound painfully in her chest, and her eyes dropped down to her plate, staring blindly at the uneaten appetizer that lay before her.

When she glanced back up, Chuck and Lily had disappeared once again into the rotating throng of dancers, only the tops of their heads visible through the crowd.

The sound of a loud throat clearing snapped her out of her reverie, and she looked over to find her boyfriend regarding her with a mix of resignation and annoyance.

"Can I help you?" she asked defensively.

"My apologies," Dan replied in a sharp tone. "I didn't mean to interrupt you staring at your ex. Please, do continue."

Her eyes widened at the curt- and surprisingly honest- response. Must be the liquid courage, she decided, eyeing his empty champagne flute. Normally he just pretended not to notice.

"I wasn't staring at anything," she defended herself. "I was just… admiring Lily's gown. It's from the new Valentino collection."

He looked back at her, eyebrows raised in skepticism.

"Besides, it wasn't even my idea to come tonight," she pointed out, taking a long swig from her own glass.

"Lily thought it was important that the whole family was here," he reminded her.

Not that the "whole family" was even together, of course- Blair and Dan had been seated with Eleanor and Cyrus, several rows back from the van der Woodsen's table.

The table where Chuck was now rejoining Nate and Serena, who had beckoned him over with a little wave of her hand. He leaned forward between the two blonde heads, looking at the cell phone display Serena held up, and shook his head with a wry grin at whatever he saw. Serena laughed, the melodious sound ringing through the air around her, while Nate shielded his eyes with one hand, an expression of good-natured embarrassment on his face.

Blair couldn't help wondering what was so funny.

Trying to stifle the little pang of regret in her chest, she speared one paper-thin slice of beef with the tines of her fork and began slicing it into even smaller pieces.

"Not enjoying the carpaccio, Daniel?" Eleanor's imperious voice cut through the tense silence, and Blair looked over to see that his plate was still untouched.

"Oh, uh… it's a little… undercooked for my taste," Dan replied with a self-deprecating grin. "I'm afraid it may start mooing again at any moment."

"Mmm." Eleanor looked unamused.

Blair sighed, taking a tiny morsel of her beef and chewing on it mechanically, finally washing the bite down with another swallow of champagne.

Her mother had never been particularly adept at hiding her disdain for people she didn't like.

"You know, Dan, I didn't much care for carpaccio either, until I tried it at the very restaurant that invented it! It's this charming little café in Venice…" Cyrus launched into one of his animated monologues, and Dan smiled awkwardly, looking relieved that someone else at the table was willing to fill the uncomfortable silence.

Blair drained the rest of her glass in one long gulp and got to her feet, announcing to no one in particular that she was heading for the bar.

She drummed her manicured fingernails impatiently along the glass surface, waiting for the bartender to return with her drink, when a quick sideways glance left her staring straight at a familiar mane of blonde hair.

"Serena," she blurted out before she could help herself.

Serena pivoted towards her, blinking in surprise.

"Hey Blair," she replied coolly, winding her fingers around the stem of her empty martini glass.

The silence stretched out between them as Serena averted her gaze and Blair tried desperately to think of something innocuous to say.

"I, uh… I love your dress," she offered, casting an admiring glance over the deep blue gown.

"Thanks."

Serena's tone wasn't rude or hostile. It was just… distant. As if they barely even knew each other.

Blair had thought that she could deal with any amount of anger- the yelling, the insults, the dirty looks that accompanied a typical girlfight- but this time had been different. They hadn't fought, hadn't shouted at each other. No one had pushed anyone into a cake.

Serena had just pulled away, let go of their friendship.

And the distance, the ever-widening gulf she could feel between them… that was what hurt more than anything.

"I heard you're taking some classes at Tisch this summer," Blair said at last, offering a tentative little smile.

Most of what she heard about Serena these days came from Lily, via Eleanor, so it was mostly impersonal details about work and school.

"Yeah, cinema studies and dramatic writing," Serena replied with a nod. "I'm actually transferring there in the fall, I just got the letter in the mail yesterday."

"Transferring?" Blair echoed, feeling her breath catch.

"Well… now that I know what I want to study." Serena shrugged. "NYU is just a better fit."

The bartender returned, handing Serena a fresh martini- extra dirty, with two olives, the way she'd always liked it. She stirred the toothpick around in leisurely circles, gazing down into her drink, while Blair regarded her with consternation and sadness.

She couldn't help remembering the fight they'd gotten into over Serena attending Columbia, the summer before sophomore year.

It all seemed so unimaginably petty now.

"I should get back to the table, I think they're about to start with the speeches," Serena said impassively, lifting her gaze back upwards. "It was good to see you, Blair."

The finality in her words echoed through Blair's head as she watched her former best friend walk away, and she had to blink rapidly to keep her eyes from filling up with tears.

But she could see the conductor bringing the small orchestra to a halt, and one of the BI board members crossing the stage towards the spot-lit microphone, so she turned and made her way back to her seat.

Cyrus, apparently, had not stopped talking the entire time she'd been gone. Which was probably for the best, she thought. At least it would prevent Dan from making more uncomfortable jokes while Eleanor studied him with barely-concealed derision, as if his very presence still baffled her.

As if it were Passover all over again and she didn't understand why the cater-waiter was sitting down to eat with them.

"Good evening, ladies and gentleman," the gray-haired man addressed the crowd, pausing to adjust the height of the microphone stand. "On behalf of the board of Bass Industries, I'd like to thank you all for coming tonight."

Blair noticed that her appetizer had been removed and replaced with a salad, the mixed greens dotted with goat cheese, candied pecans, and a bright raspberry vinaigrette. She picked up her salad fork and prodded disinterestedly at the leaves, mostly to avoid making eye contact with anyone around her.

"We're here to celebrate a successful year at BI- one that saw a 30% increase in sales and a significant rebound in stock prices. After struggling through a rocky economic situation as well as some… internal strife, this company has emerged stronger than ever, proving the value of a solid business strategy.

"And to that end, I would like to introduce the man largely responsible for this turnaround. A man whose strong leadership and forward-thinking investment tactics have steered this company through very uncertain waters, and thus leave it poised to make even greater strides in the coming year. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome… Mr. Charles Bass."

With that, a round of polite applause rang out through the ballroom, welcoming the tuxedo-clad figure striding towards across the stage.

When Chuck began speaking, his low, smooth voice reverberating through the crowd, Blair gave up pretending to eat and turned her attention towards the front of the room. Part of her was grateful that she had an excuse to look at him, for at least a little while, without having to employ covert sideways glances and feigned nonchalance.

While he detailed some of the company's achievements over the previous year- the Brooklyn hotel project proceeding ahead of schedule, takeover and renovation of several midtown nightclubs, and the impressive profits from their new investment properties- Blair couldn't help feeling her heart swell with pride.

Even after taking over this company under the worst possible circumstances, when he'd been in no way prepared to do so. Even after a lifetime of emotional neglect and self-loathing, obstacles that a weaker man would never have overcome.

He stood now in front of the crème de la crème of New York society, no longer the spoiled playboy, the unrepentant delinquent… but as a successful man who commanded their respect and admiration.

Her eyes swept over his distinguished figure, the proud slant of his features, the charisma that kept every eye in the room fixed on him- and she tried to silence the little voice in the back of her head.

The little voice telling her that he was no longer hers to be proud of.

Because that thought felt so incongruous, so _wrong_… she simply couldn't accept it.

She took another long swallow of champagne, trying to stifle some of the tension and anxiety that was roiling her stomach.

"And tonight, it is my pleasure to announce the last, and most ambitious, component of our three-part investment strategy for the coming fiscal year." Chuck paused for emphasis. "The acquisition of the Maybourne hotel chain in London, which was just finalized this very morning."

A chorus of excited murmurs moved through the crowd, and Blair sat up straighter in her seat, her interest piqued.

"To dispel any concerns that we may be taking on too much too fast, or spreading our resources too thin," Chuck continued. "I would like to assure you that I will be relocating to London to oversee this project personally for the next two years."

Several seconds passed, the words echoing through her head, before Blair fully absorbed their meaning.

Her heart plummeted in her chest.

"Leaving the New York operations in the very capable hands of Mr. Richard Morgan." He tipped his champagne flute in the direction of the man who had introduced him.

"I do trust that the board will continue to behave itself under his watch," he added with a wry grin, and several chuckles could be heard throughout the audience.

_Relocating to London._

_For the next two years._

Blair swallowed the lump in her throat, desperately trying to keep her composure as Chuck concluded his speech to a resounding burst of applause.

"The Maybourne group?" Eleanor sounded impressed despite herself. "That's quite a move. Did you know about this, Blair?"

"No," she responded quietly.

She watched as Chuck returned to his table, greeted by a friendly hug from Serena and a pat on the back from Nate. Their reactions were cheerful, enthusiastic… but not surprised. The announcement clearly wasn't news to them.

Blair returned her gaze to the bubbling ivory liquid in front of her, avoiding the eyes boring questioningly into the side of her face.

She knew that if she looked at Dan, he would see the tears shimmering in her eyes, the riot of emotions whirling through her mind. All of the fear, regret, and guilt she'd been repressing for the past few months.

But at the moment, all she could do was hold it inside... and wonder how everything had gone so horribly wrong.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

**A/N:** So, apologies for the DB pairing- rest assured that I hate them together even more than you do, and this will not be written as any sort of triangle. It's just my way of fixing the mess the writers have made of Blair's character and Chuck and Blair's relationship. It'll be a relatively short story, probably about 6 chapters.

Thanks to Terrabeth, for being my beta/sounding-board/amused victim of my angry rants.

And do consider leaving a review :)

This song for this story, btw, is taken from a Dave Matthews song on the Live at Radio City Music Hall album. I highly recommend it, it's gorgeous.


	2. Chapter 2

.

**Chapter 2**

_Maybe different but remember_  
><em>Winters warm where you and I<em>  
><em>Kissing whiskey by the fire <em>  
><em>With the snow outside<em>

Serena paused before leaving the powder room, giving her reflection a last once-over in the gilt-edged mirror. Hair was in order, makeup in place, double-stick tape… still stuck, she confirmed, smoothing a hand across the low neckline of her gown.

After all, a Bass Industries gala was no place for a wardrobe malfunction.

She picked up her beaded clutch in one hand and the side of her skirt with the other- just enough to make sure she didn't trip over the hem and end up in an ungainly heap of silver stilettos and blonde hair- and made her way back towards the ballroom.

Glancing through the entrance of Oak Bar door as she passed by, she came to a sudden halt when she spotted a familiar figure at the far end of the bar. She hesitated for a moment before she pushed open the glass doors and ventured inside.

Chuck didn't look up as she approached. His gaze remained locked on the glass of scotch he was swirling in one hand.

"Hey," she greeted him. "Mom's looking for you, she thought you might have slipped out without saying goodbye."

He shook his head, still staring contemplatively into the amber-colored liquid as it caught and reflected the light.

"Just needed a break," he said in a subdued tone. "It was starting to feel a little… claustrophobic in there."

"Oh." Serena paused, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she regarded him with uncertainty. "Do you want me to leave you alone, or…"

"No," he refuted quietly. He gestured towards the stool beside him and Serena slid onto it, gathering the folds of her gown neatly around her knees.

The silence stretched out between them for a moment as she glanced out of the corners of her eyes, discreetly studying his profile.

She'd known Chuck nearly her entire life, but she'd never been able to read him well. Whether he was smirking or brooding, he always kept his thoughts hidden beneath a deliberately enigmatic façade.

And in recent months, maintaining the same veneer of composure had been easier for her, too. They were both hurting, both suffering from the same combination of heartbreak and betrayal. There didn't seem to be any point in commiserating or rehashing the details they both knew all too well.

So they'd simply leaned on each other, and Nate, for companionship, for camaraderie. For distraction.

But she could tell, just from watching his fingers trace absentmindedly around his glass, that his thoughts were far from investment capital and renovation plans at the moment.

"You know, I think mom's a little peeved that you're leaving so soon," Serena commented, offering him a little smile. "You didn't give her time to throw you a going-away party."

"Going-away parties aren't really my style," he replied sardonically.

"Your _style_ is sneaking off in the middle of the night without telling anyone," Serena countered dryly. "So I guess we're just lucky you didn't do that."

He tilted his head in acknowledgment, a wry smile quirking his lips.

"But still… first thing in the morning?" she asked, studying his expression. "Is it really that urgent?"

"The deal was supposed to be finalized last week, so we're already behind schedule," he replied with a shrug. "I'm meeting with contractors Monday morning."

Serena nodded, and another pensive silence stretched between them.

"You know we're all going to miss you, Chuck," she offered softly.

His eyes flickered over to hers, a hint of gratitude in their hazel depths, before he looked away again.

Sensing his discomfort with the sentimentality, she continued in a more lighthearted vein. "I mean, how is poor Nate going to survive on his own? It's been three months and he still hasn't figured out how to work the espresso machine. And last Saturday, when he brought those two girls home from Marquee and got their names mixed up? You weren't around to introduce yourself, so he spent the rest of the night calling them both 'hey.'"

This earned her a soft chuckle.

"Nathaniel does struggle without a wingman," he commented wryly, smirking as he took a sip of his scotch. "That little blunder probably cost him a threesome."

Serena rolled her eyes.

"Ugh, how did I end up best friends with two total pervs?" she sighed.

Their smiles faded somewhat, as they both recognized the implications of her offhand remark.

"Chuck…" she began, biting her lip as she considered whether or not to broach the topic. "I really am happy for you. This seems like a great move for Bass Industries… and for you…"

She paused, and he regarded her with a raised eyebrow, clearly anticipating the "but" that was coming.

"But is that really the reason you're leaving?" she ventured.

Chuck's gaze dropped back down to his drink, his lips pursed slightly in contemplation.

"Maybe not the only reason," he finally conceded.

Serena nodded, a sad smile of understanding on her face.

"New York is your home, Chuck," she said gently. "You shouldn't let them drive you away from your friends and family."

He lifted the glass to his lips, taking a long swallow.

"And if I've learned anything…" she added wryly. "It's that running away from your problems never solves them. They're all just waiting right there for you when you come back."

"Trust me, I've noticed that myself." He gave a humorless laugh. "But I'm not running away."

"What would you call it, then?"

Chuck was silent for a moment, pondering her question.

"Starting over," he said quietly. "I've spent the last… four years, believing in something- in _someone_- above all else. Everything I did, everything I wanted. Everything I believed about myself… was because of her.

"And now that that's gone, I just feel like…"

He trailed off, his features taut and impassive.

"Like you're not sure who you are without her," she finished for him, feeling tears prick the back of her eyelids.

Because she understood, probably more than anyone, exactly how he felt. To have your life, everything you knew about yourself and the people you loved, crumble down to its very foundation.

To have the same people who'd always believed in you, who'd stood by you everything… just disregard you entirely. Like you didn't even matter to them anymore.

"You know, when I first came back from boarding school," she began, swallowing to keep her emotions in check. "No matter how hard I tried to change, to be better… no one really believed I could. They all thought I was the same out-of-control party girl, the same irresponsible trainwreck.

"The same… boyfriend-stealing slut," she added remorsefully.

She could feel Chuck's eyes on her, his unspoken empathy, as she stared off into the distance.

"Except for Dan," she said with a wistful little smile. "He always saw me differently than everyone else. He always believed in me, even when no one else did.

"You know when I ended up in the hospital last year, he was the only one who believed I hadn't overdosed? Even Blair thought I'd just… returned to my old ways."

She fell silent for a moment, twisting her fingers together in her lap.

"So what does it say about me," she said, her voice growing increasingly unsteady, "that the one person who always had faith in me could just… give up? And not even care anymore?"

A single tear escaped her eye, dropping soundlessly to the glossy surface of the bar, and she heard Chuck inhale a long, deep breath.

"Serena, it doesn't… say anything about you," he replied quietly. "But it does say something about Dan. He's not the person you thought he was."

She nodded, unconvinced.

"I mean… surely you've noticed by now," Chuck said, gesturing with his hand as if he were pointing out something manifestly obvious.

Serena raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

"He's a fucking douchebag," Chuck said emphatically.

Serena smiled despite herself, sniffing back the tears that were still gathered in her eyes.

"Well, he wasn't always that bad," she defended herself.

"Yes, he was _always_ that bad," Chuck countered with a snort. "He's so self-righteous, so convinced of his own moral superiority, so obsessed with finding reasons to look down on everyone around him, that he's incapable of acknowledging his own faults. Of which there are many."

She opened her mouth to disagree, but no rebuttal came to mind.

"For Dan Humphrey, judging is like breathing. You're lucky you escaped it for as long as you did," he added, a note of dark humor in his voice. "He was probably just distracted by the spontaneous erection he got every time he was within twenty feet of you."

Serena laughed aloud at that, shaking her head as she did so.

"You're terrible," she said reprovingly, but unable to keep the smile off her face.

"Look, Serena…" Chuck hesitated. "Although I hate to admit that the guy was actually capable of insight at one point in his life..." He flicked his eyes up at her. "He was right to believe in you. He was just wrong to stop."

They sat in silence for a few moments, Chuck finishing his scotch and starting in on a second glass, Serena contemplating their exchange.

"You know, Chuck," she remarked. "I think Blair's… so lucky."

"Really," he said sardonically, and she blinked in surprise.

"Oh, no, not because…" she waved her hand dismissively. "I mean… because of you."

Seeing his skeptical expression, she tried to find the words to explain herself.

"I mean… the way you feel about her," she clarified. "Like there's nothing you wouldn't do for her. Like you'd never give up on her."

Chuck's mouth twisted into something halfway between a smile and a grimace.

"I've never seen anyone love someone as much as you love her," she concluded, a faintly regretful note in her voice.

She'd finally come to terms with the fact that Dan's former infatuation with her could never compare that sort of unconditional love. Otherwise… he wouldn't have been able to just let go of it the way he had. To transfer his affections onto someone else as if she were irrelevant. Replaceable.

She still struggled to convince herself that she wasn't the reason for this- that there wasn't something inherently wrong with her that had made it so easy for him.

"I wish I didn't."

Chuck's words were almost inaudible, his gaze fixed on his tumbler propped between his hands.

"What?"

"I still love her," Chuck admitted, his tone low and thick with repressed emotion. "But I wish I didn't."

He exhaled slowly, maybe a little unsteadily.

"It just hurts too much," he murmured, raising his gaze to meet hers for the briefest of moments, before returning it to his glass.

This time, the tears she felt gathering had nothing to do with her own pain.

They were for that flash of hopelessness she'd glimpsed in his dark eyes. For all the hurt and grief he was keeping inside, concealed beneath a proud, stoic exterior.

"She still loves you too, Chuck," Serena said quietly. "I know she does."

Chuck just shook his head.

"Love doesn't just disappear," he quoted himself, with a mirthless laugh. "Except when it does…"

Serena understood why he felt the way he did, but she still couldn't believe it was true.

Blair had feelings for Dan, sure- obviously more than friendship, maybe even love. They were something new, and different, so she'd felt compelled to give it a try. Test the waters, satisfy her curiosity.

And she hadn't cared who she'd hurt along the way. Chuck's feelings, Serena's feelings… none of it had mattered, relative to what she'd wanted at that moment. She'd felt entitled to pursue her own happiness at the expense of everyone else's, without even a pang of remorse.

After the accident, after her miscarriage, and after the debacle at her wedding, Serena couldn't entirely blame Blair for gravitating towards something simple. Someone who just loved her without challenging her, who didn't inspire that intense, all-consuming love- and therefore the possibility of an all-consuming loss. Someone who just supported her, regardless of how irrationally she behaved.

But no matter what Blair had said, or done, or who she'd been with in the meantime, the one thing that had never wavered was her love for Chuck. Serena was sure of it.

Of course, that would be little consolation to the man sitting beside her right now.

A man who was supposed to be starting an exciting new chapter of his life- but instead looked as though he were mourning someone who'd died.

"Well, if it helps…" Serena paused, giving him an affectionate little smile. "I love you. I mean, not in that way, but still…"

"It doesn't," he said wryly. "But… thanks."

His eyes flashed back to hers, and they regarded each other for a moment, tacit understanding passing between them.

"Well, I should probably head back inside," she said finally. "You coming?"

"In a minute," he replied, turning his gaze back towards his unfinished drink. "Tell Lily I'll be right in."

Serena nodded and slid down off her stool, casting one last glance back at him as she made her way out the door.

She was on her way back down the hallway, her heels silent on the thickly-padded carpet, when she heard a sharp whisper echoing from around the corner.

"I'm not avoiding the conversation, I'm just saying this is neither the time nor the place for it."

"It's never the time or place for it, Blair," came the tense retort. "This is the same thing you always do, just stick your head in the sand and pretend like everything's fine, when it's perfectly obvious it's not…"

The heated voices increased in volume as the two rounded the corner- at which point they came to a sudden halt, two sets of brown eyes widening identically as they encountered Serena's startled blue ones.

She paused a moment, giving Blair a stiff little smile of acknowledgment.

And then, she walked past them without a word. Keeping her footsteps unhurried, features composed. Head held high.

Eventually, she told herself, she wouldn't have to pretend anymore.

Eventually it wouldn't hurt so much.

**A/N:** I have to say, the outpouring of support for this story so far has been really overwhelming. Obviously I think the show sucks giant balls at the moment, and I'm incredibly disheartened by what they've done to Blair and to CB - so, it's really comforting to know that I'm not alone in feeling this way. I know CB aren't over, and never will be- but the issue now is whether they can bring Blair to a point where I would even want them together again, so that's what I'm trying to do here. Anyway, I hope that reading this story helps you as much as it helps me to write it.

Thanks to Terrabeth for her beta magic, as well as for being my much-needed partner-in-bitchery during these… challenging times.

And thanks so much for taking the time to review (it definitely gives me a kick in the ass to keep going!): _Aliennut, 13maggi13, bonafide11, Natalie2010, maryl, dreamgurl, 88Mary88, awwww, BlairGirlNo1, notoutforawalk, LunaSeasMoonChild, CBfanhere, scarlett2u, XY and Z, Stella296, RauhlPrincess, wrighthangal, Izzie, Iz, Ican'tbeMewithoutYou, Questacious, SoonerThanLater, annablake, iheartchair, loopingread, pty, Infinitywr, theghostqueen, Lacey, Incorrigible dreamer, livelybass (who finally got a FF account, yay!), Temp02, Nelly, AmyNY, Mademoiselle Bass, Black, epicchair, leah, Edlover, bfan, Rossiee, Love Still Stands, Trosev, 24hrscout, jsta, Sia, Eat The Hype Up, Lena, and Liz._


	3. Chapter 3

.

**Chapter 3**

_What day is this_  
><em>Besides the day you left me…<em>

Blair leaned her head back against the padded leather seat and stared out the window, watching the Manhattan skyline recede into the distance as their towncar sped across the Brooklyn Bridge.

Without looking, she knew that Dan was doing the same thing: staring out the opposite window on the other side of the car. The atmosphere was thick with tension, and she could practically _hear_ him judging her from across the seat- but the silence still felt like a long-awaited respite.

Because she needed to think.

She needed to figure out why her decisions, which she'd made and adhered to with the same single-minded determination that she always did, had left her feeling moderately content on the best days, and isolated and unhappy the rest of the time.

And on the worst days- which included tonight, and that Saturday evening a few weeks ago when she'd seen Chuck at the opera with a willowy blonde on his arm- she felt like her heart was being crushed inside of her chest.

(She'd also felt an overwhelming urge to tackle the tramp to the floor and scratch her stupid eyes out… which she'd resisted, choosing instead to spend the evening seething with irrational hatred and glowering at the back of her head.)

She knew full well that she had no right to be jealous, to expect Chuck to wait while she explored her feelings for Dan. And she hadn't expected him to pine for her, nursing his broken heart with glass after glass of scotch, longing for the day when she might finally return. She certainly hadn't expected him to keep fighting for her, using every scheme and trick and big romantic gesture in the book to win her back. To prove to her that they really were inevitable.

So why, then, had it hurt so much when he hadn't?

She was starting to suspect that some part of her- a part she'd buried away along with the rest of her messy and inconvenient feelings- had always expected to return to him eventually.

But two years seemed like… an interminably long time. Long enough for him to get over her. To move on.

To fall in love with someone else, she thought, swallowing down the painful lump in her throat. And that was never supposed to happen.

They were supposed to find their way back to each other.

She couldn't- _wouldn't_- lose him like this.

When they pulled to a stop outside the Humphrey loft, Dan exited without a word, shutting the door behind him with just a bit too much force; Blair sighed to herself, quietly instructing the driver to wait before following Dan into the building.

The loft always had a faint… warehouse-y smell to it, she observed, crinkling up her nose as they walked into the living room. Despite her repeated attempts to eradicate it with scented candles and fresh flowers- in a moment of desperation, she'd even tried a Glade plug-in- she could never quite dispel the lingering odor of industrial machinery and sweaty factory workers.

Or whatever it was people kept in warehouses.

Dan dropped his keys on the coffee table, loosened his tie and ran his fingers through his already-tousled hair.

"I'm going to bed," he announced in a tired voice, not looking her in the eyes.

"Wait," Blair said quietly. "Dan… we should talk."

She sat down on the sofa and patted the cushion beside her.

Dan let out a pained sigh and sat down as far away from her as possible- he was practically sitting on the arm of the sofa- before looking at her and attempting an understanding expression.

"So… are you actually going to tell me what's going on?" he asked finally, unable to conceal his annoyance.

Blair fidgeted with the skirt of her gown for a moment, the black chiffon sliding softly across her fingertips as she steeled her nerves for the conversation to come.

"Dan…" she began, forcing herself to look up from her own lap and make eye contact with him. "You know how much I care about you. You're one of the most important people in my life, and… I really don't want that to change."

Dan's eyes widened slightly, realization dawning that this wasn't going to be the conversation he'd obviously expected.

The one they'd already had several times over the brief course of their relationship, where he asked her what was wrong, she assured him with a bright, almost-convincing smile that everything was fine, really, and then they snuggled in front of the television until they fell asleep.

No, this was going to be something else entirely.

And it was obvious from his incredulous expression that he'd never been on the receiving end of this conversation before.

"Are you breaking up with me?" he cut right to the chase, his tone tinged with disbelief.

Blair's mouth opened slightly, and then closed again, and she looked back down at the hands clasped together in her lap.

She knew the answer was written all over her face.

"If this is because of, uh, you know…" Dan made a self-conscious gesture with his hand. "I really think that'll get better, with a little more practice…"

But Blair was already shaking her head.

"I think that's… just a symptom," she said. "Not the cause. It's … a sign that we're better off just being friends."

"I see." He stared back at her with a hint of resentment appearing in his dark eyes. "Well then, I wonder what else it could _possibly_ be?"

She held his gaze, but couldn't prevent the guilty flush that spread across her cheeks.

"I mean, I'm sure this has absolutely nothing to do with Chuck, right?" he went on, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"Dan, that's not-" she began.

"I can't believe that after _everything_," he cut her off, his tone growing increasingly bitter. "After everything he's done, after everything that's happened between us… you still love him."

She stared back at him in consternation.

"Of course I do," she defended herself. "I never said that I didn't. I never _lied_ to you, Dan."

"I know you didn't, I just…" He exhaled a frustrated sigh. "I thought that would change. I thought…" he trailed off, looking defeated.

She raised her eyebrows questioningly.

"That you would…grow to love me," he admitted, averting his eyes. "The way you love _him_."

Blair sighed, regarding him with a look of sad understanding.

She couldn't help but sympathize. After all, she'd spent several years of her life feeling the exact same way. Thinking that if she could just make herself into what Nate wanted, what he needed… if she were pretty enough, charming enough, thin enough…

Eventually he would look at her the way he looked at Serena.

The constant self-doubt, the never-ending battle to earn someone else's affection- it was something that she wouldn't wish on anyone.

"What I don't get," Dan said suddenly, "is _why now?_ You turned him down to be with _me_. You've barely even seen him in months.

"Unless…" He fixed her with a pointed glare. "You've been seeing more of him than I thought?"

She stared back at him in disbelief as she absorbed his implication.

"What exactly are you accusing me of?" she asked incredulously. "You think I'm _cheating_ on you?"

He shrugged, his expression unrepentant.

"Wouldn't be the first time," he pointed out tartly.

Ignoring the accuracy of that statement, she narrowed her eyes at him in indignation.

"I have _never_ given you a reason to suspect that," she replied sharply.

"Oh, you mean besides spending the entire evening mooning over your ex, breaking up with me, and now, I assume, planning to head straight over to his place when you leave here?" he countered, the antagonism in his voice fading into hurt.

Unable to face the wounded expression in his eyes, she averted her gaze.

"Dan, I've barely spoken to Chuck since you and I started dating," she said honestly- omitting that this was largely because he'd avoided all of her attempts to contact him. "I know it's hard to believe, but he's done nothing to interfere in our relationship."

"Except for making an elaborate speech announcing his departure," Dan commented dryly. "Has it occurred to you that maybe this is exactly why he's leaving? So you'll stop him?"

Of course it had occurred to her, she thought with a barely-perceptible eyeroll. Blair Waldorf had practically gold-medaled in scheming and manipulation; obviously she'd examined his motivations from every possible angle.

But even if that were the case, even if this were nothing more than a high-stakes game of chicken...

"It doesn't matter," she said truthfully. "All that matters is… if I let him leave, I know I'll regret it."

Dan sighed, rubbing one hand along the side of his face.

"Why did you even get involved with me at all, Blair?" he asked in a discouraged tone. "Why not just go back to him three months ago, and leave me out of this whole mess?"

Deciding that he deserved an honest answer, she paused to consider his question.

"You've been… so good to me, Dan," she replied finally. "You supported me through everything that's happened this past year. You've always been there when I needed you, no matter how… demanding, or irrational, or… bitchy, I may have gotten."

She saw the slight tilt of his eyebrows, indicating that she'd been all of those things- but chose to let it slide.

"You've been an amazing friend, and I will _always_ be grateful for that," she continued with a wistful little smile. "But… friendship isn't romance. And gratitude isn't love."

Dan winced slightly at her candor.

"Chuck told me I was free to choose," she said quietly, her voice heavy with remorse as she remembered the look on his face as he'd done so. "And that's exactly what I was trying to do. Choose someone safe, dependable. Someone who would never hurt me."

Someone who _could_ never hurt me, her mind corrected.

Because she'd never really given him the power to do so.

"But… you can't choose who you love. And you can't just… kill feelings," She unwittingly echoed Dan's own words back to him. "My past with Chuck has been so complicated, so… intense. We've both hurt each other, and we've both made a lot of mistakes."

She felt that familiar stab of sadness, of regret, when she thought of all of the opportunities they'd screwed up, all the chances they'd lost.

_This_ is_ the end, Chuck._

_You're not ready for a relationship. Maybe you never will be. _

_But that doesn't mean I'm in love with you, at least not right now. Not the way you need me to be._

"I think I was afraid that if we tried again, and failed, for whatever reason…" She paused, taking a deep, shaky breath. "I didn't think I could handle that."

Even now, just mentioning the possibility was enough to make her stomach tighten in apprehension.

"It was a risk I wasn't prepared to take," she admitted sadly.

"But a relationship shouldn't _be_ a risk," Dan argued, even as she could see the awareness in his eyes that this wasn't an argument he would win. "Not when it's right. You shouldn't _have_ to be afraid of getting hurt. You're only afraid because he's hurt you so many times."

Blair shook her head.

"Loving someone- truly loving them, with all of your heart- is always a risk," she refuted. "Not just because they could hurt you, but because… if you lose them…"

She paused, swallowing over the lump in her throat. "You might never recover," she concluded in an unsteady voice.

Her eyes began to fill with tears as she recalled the image of Chuck in a hospital bed, his pale, bruised body barely clinging to life; the piercing beep of the monitor the only assurance that his heart continued to beat. Her chest had clenched in terror every time the rhythm changed even slightly, certain that he was going to die in front of her at any moment.

And all because he'd run away with her, tried to protect her. She'd almost lost him forever.

_It takes more than even you to destroy Blair Waldorf. _

But he could have. _Losing_ him could have. And it had scared the hell out of her.

She'd been running scared ever since.

"And what about me?" Dan's voice intruded on her thoughts. "You're not… scared of losing me?"

She glanced back up to find him still watching her.

"I hope I don't," she said honestly.

The unspoken conclusion_- but that's a risk I'm willing to take-_ hung heavily in the air between them.

He said nothing in response, his expression a mix of hurt and resignation. And a sharp pang of sympathy cut through her, because she knew he didn't deserve this.

Dan's only mistake had been trying to fill a role in her life that had never been meant for him.

"I'm sorry," she added quietly, although she knew it would do little to comfort him.

He shook his head, exhaling a soft, mirthless laugh.

"Don't be," he said in a weary tone. "I feel like an idiot for thinking that this… could've ended up any other way."

As remorseful as she felt, she couldn't disagree. Yes, she'd told him that Chuck no longer had her heart- but Dan should have known better. He'd believed her because he'd wanted to, not because he'd really thought it was true.

"I meant what I said before, Dan," she said sincerely. "I know you probably hate me right now, but… your friendship means the world to me. I really hope I haven't… screwed that all up."

Her voice lilted upwards at the end, framing the statement as a question.

Dan stared down at the coffee table for a moment as he considered his response.

"No," he finally said. "I don't hate you, Blair. And I'm not sorry we tried, because otherwise… I think I would've always wondered, you know?"

She nodded.

"And I do still want us to be friends. I mean… I can't even really imagine my life without you," he gave her a bittersweet little smile. "I think it'll take some time though. I can't just go from… sixty to zero in a day."

"I understand," she replied softly, trying not to sound as disappointed as she felt.

Truth be told, she couldn't really imagine her life without him, either- partly because of how close they'd grown over the past year, but also because she was so estranged from everyone else. With Serena and Chuck (and by extension, Nate) keeping their distance, Dorota on maternity leave, and her mom spending most of her time in Paris, she couldn't even remember the last time she'd had a heart-to-heart with anyone besides Dan.

But that was about to change.

Tonight she would get Chuck back; tomorrow, Serena. Dan would come around eventually, and then everything would be back to the way it was supposed to be.

"I should probably go," she murmured, trying not to seem too eager to get away from Dan and his mopey expression. "But whenever you're ready to… talk, or hang out, or… whatever… give me a call?"

He nodded gloomily, and she reached out to give his shoulder a quick squeeze before she stood to leave.

It wasn't until she reached the sidewalk outside, her stilettos tapping sharply against the concrete, that she identified the pleasant sensation coursing through her veins.

It was… freedom.

The freedom Chuck had tried to give her months ago- she just hadn't let herself fully grasp it until now.

It felt so good, so invigorating, she practically skipped towards her waiting towncar, sliding into the backseat with far more eagerness than she'd left it half an hour ago.

"Empire hotel," she commanded, barely able to control the giddy little smile on her face.

She leaned back against the leather seat, feeling her stomach flutter with a mix of excitement and nervousness as she stared up at the approaching Manhattan skyline.

This was it, she realized.

She was finally going home.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** And… they're dunzo. Surprisingly enjoyable to write, hope it was also enjoyable to read! Lemme know :) And just to warn you, this story will get M-rated at some point. Because that's just how I roll.

Thanks to Terrabeth for corralling all of my "thinkiness" in this chapter. Trying to explain Blair's thought process, or why she was even with Dan to begin with, was no easy task, haha.

And thanks to my reviewers, you guys (and Chuck and Blair!) are what keep me writing: _ dreamgurl, SoonerThanLater, bfan, FrozenandYetNot, annablake, Iz, Rossiee, thebelleoftheball, Ican'tbeMewithoutYou, Lena, 3bass3, Meg, RauhlPrincess, theghostqueen, Stella296, Incorrigible dreamer, SnowedUnderNJ, issabell, fiona249, Infinitywr, Love Still Stands, Krazy4Spike, livelybass, Mademoiselle Bass, Izzie, Jane, LowerCase32, Trosev, A, 88Mary88, notoutforawalk, Vanillaberries, Questacious, Megumi, nelly, BiteMeBass (awesome name, btw), 13maggi13, iheartchair, pty, Edlover, bonafide11, HazelFromBehind, and Temp02. _


	4. Chapter 4

.

**Chapter 4**

_Stay or leave_  
><em>I want you<em>  
><em>Not to go<em>  
><em>But you should<em>

The elevator doors slid open with a soft _whoosh,_ revealing the darkened outlines of Chuck's penthouse. The familiar furnishings and artwork were cloaked in shadow, the only light an eerie reddish glow from the Empire's rooftop sign.

Blinking as her eyes adjusted to her dim surroundings, Blair heard a clicking sound across the polished hardwood and looked down to see Monkey at her feet. He was staring up at her with his wide, guileless eyes, panting audibly, tail wagging in a furry brown blur. She smiled as he pressed his damp nose against her palm with a curious snuffling sound before treating it to a series of enthusiastic licks.

_Not much of a guard dog_, she thought, gingerly wiping her hand off on her skirt and making a mental note to wash it at the next available opportunity.

When she looked back up, she noticed a sliver of light coming from behind the bedroom door, outlining its shape in the near-darkness. Swallowing down her nerves, she made her way down the hallway and pressed it open.

But the sight that greeted her made her come to an immediate halt.

The bookshelves were empty, and the tops of the dressers and bedside tables were bare. A stack of boxes lined the rear wall, neatly labeled with their contents. She took a few tentative steps forward, stunned, and her gaze panned across the open closet door to her right. It too was empty, and the bars were dangling with empty hangers.

Well, he definitely wasn't wasting any time, she thought uneasily. If she'd waited another day to call his bluff, she might have had to chase him all the way to London.

She heard the faint sound of running water behind the closed bathroom door, and calculated she had five minutes, maybe ten at the most; Chuck never lingered in the shower unless he had company.

As she waited, her gaze skittered nervously around the room before returning to the closet… and pausing on the single item remaining inside. Eyes widening in recognition, she glanced over her shoulder at the bathroom door before walking over to the closet and kneeling down on the plush carpeting.

The carved mahogany box sat on the floor against the back wall, nestled beneath the empty shoe rack. She carefully pulled it out and flipped open the lid, tracing her fingers along the wooden edge as she looked over its contents.

A few newspaper clippings, articles and photos of them at various events; the calligraphied clues she'd made for their naughty scavenger hunt; a set of photostrips from a wedding they'd attended (which eventually turned naughty as well); the lacey black thong he'd pocketed after her seventeenth birthday party.

But there was a lot more in the box than the last time she'd seen it. A pair of cufflinks and a Rolex she'd given him. The silk pajama top that she'd adopted as her own a few weeks into their relationship. The framed photo of the two of them on the French Riviera that used to sit on his nightstand- they were sitting on the beach, and she was smiling at the camera she held out in front of them, a light breeze blowing her curls against her cheek. His head was turned slightly to the side as he watched her, a little half-smile on his face.

Both of them looked so happy, she thought with a wistful smile.

And the thought of all of those memories just being… being boxed up and left behind…

It made her heart ache inside her chest.

Suddenly realizing that the water had stopped, she hastily shoved the box back to its former position and scrambled to her feet.

Taking a few paces forward, she stood in the center of the floor, forcing herself not to fidget from one foot to the other. Now that she was actually here, she had no idea how she'd managed to stay away for so long; her heart was beating a mile a minute, and she felt like she might jump out of her skin in anticipation.

Finally, the door swung open and Chuck stepped into the bedroom, vigorously rubbing his head with a towel. After several endless seconds, he tossed it aside into a hamper, and looked up.

His hazel eyes collided with her wide brown ones. For a split-second, they widened with surprise, and then his expression retracted into something unreadable.

They simply stared at each other for one long moment.

"Blair," he said at last, the deep timbre of his voice producing an odd flip-flop in her stomach.

"Hi," she greeted him breathlessly.

Her mouth went dry as she looked him over- from his damp, tousled hair, to the loosely-tied robe revealing part of his bare torso, droplets of water still clinging to his chest hair; the outline of his muscular body beneath the silky fabric; the belt wrapped slackly around his waist, looking as though one firm tug would be enough to get it open.

But then Chuck cleared his throat, eying her with a guarded look as he tightened the belt of his robe, and she mentally shook herself back to reality.

She took a deliberate glance around the room before returning to meet his eyes.

"I see you didn't waste any time getting packed," she observed wryly.

Her attempt to lighten the mood hung awkwardly in the air between them, Chuck's only response an evasive little nod.

She swallowed over the nervous lump in her throat.

"That was… a really wonderful speech you gave tonight," she offered, smiling hesitantly.

"Thank you," he responded in a short tone.

"And the Maybourne deal… " She shook her head in admiration. "That's just amazing, Chuck. I remember when you were trying to negotiate with them last year, it didn't sound like they'd ever agree to your terms."

He shrugged.

"I guess I made them an offer they couldn't refuse," he said sardonically.

But she didn't miss the little spark of pride in his otherwise deadpan expression.

"Well, it sounds like a wonderful opportun—" she was enthusing with a bright smile when Chuck interrupted her.

"What are you doing here, Blair?" he asked with just the slightest tinge of impatience.

Blair's smile quickly faded from her face. Fine, she thought. Enough with the small talk.

"I…" she began, biting her lip. "I broke up with Dan."

The words echoed through the tense air between them, her heart skipping a beat when he showed no outward reaction.

In fact, if it weren't for the slight tensing of his jaw, she might have suspected he hadn't heard her at all.

"Chuck…" she trailed off, expecting him to say something.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he replied evenly.

She blinked in surprise.

"Sure you are," she scoffed, eying him with consummate skepticism.

"You sacrificed a lot for that relationship," he said in a quiet tone. "Your marriage. Your reputation. Your friendship with Serena. It's just a shame... it was all for nothing."

Her brow furrowed as she absorbed his words.

He must still be angry, she realized. Well, she could hardly blame him for that.

"But it wasn't for nothing," she insisted.

She stepped towards him and his body stiffened reflexively. When she traced one hand down the lapel of his robe, she could feel his heart beat through the layer of fabric underneath her hand, their proximity clearly affecting him just as much as it did her.

"It made me realize what I really want," she finished softly.

She gazed up at him with an expectant look, but he averted his eyes.

"And what's that?" he asked gruffly.

"You," she whispered.

She ran her hand along the side of his jaw, watching his eyes flutter closed, his only response a quiet exhalation.

With a tilt of her head, a lingering caress of her hand, she leaned up and brushed her lips against his.

The spark of electricity between them was instantaneous, shooting all the way down to her toes. It had been _so long_ since they'd last kissed, since his soft, warm lips had touched her skin- it felt familiar and exhilarating all at once.

Making an eager little noise low in her throat, she pressed herself closer, her hand drifting down to stroke the taut column of his neck as her mouth moved against his.

But in a swift, abrupt motion, he pulled away, stepping backwards to put distance between them.

"I should've known," he murmured, almost as if he were talking to himself. "I should've known this would happen."

"Chuck…" Her brow furrowed in puzzlement.

"I should've known the second I tried to leave…" He rubbed a hand over his jaw, frustration visible on his face. "You wouldn't be able to just... let me go."

She stared back at him, confused by the suggestion that this was an undesired turn of events.

"Of course I couldn't. I can't… bear the thought of you leaving," she admitted.

"You tell me to move on," he said in a low voice, still not meeting her eyes. "You tell me to let go. But every time I try… you pull me back in. It almost feels like… you want to make sure that I'm not happy without you."

Her lips parted in dismay, and she immediately began shaking her head.

"That's not true," she countered. "It's not because I don't want you to be happy without me. It's because… I was trying to be happy without _you_. But I wasn't, not at all."

"And I don't want to be," she went on in a softer tone. "I just… I just miss you. So much."

The tight, controlled lines of his face twitched almost imperceptibly.

"And… I know you miss me too," she added.

"I've been missing you for a long time, Blair," he said quietly.

But something about the way he said it made her uneasy.

"You don't have to anymore," she replied with a tentative smile, hoping he would respond in kind- but his expression remained impassive.

"I'm leaving for London in eight hours," he replied matter-of-factly. "What exactly do you want from me?"

And her heart dropped a little at the distance in his voice.

"Well, 'goodbye,' for starters," she said, a shade of hurt creeping into her voice. "Were you really going to leave without even that?"

He sighed deeply, dropping his head back against the bathroom door frame and rubbing one hand across his jaw.

"I don't know how to say goodbye to you, Blair," he admitted.

"Then _don't_," she said softly, insistently. "Stay here… with me."

"Why should I?"

It took her by surprise, that single, hoarsely-uttered question, and she simply stared at him for a beat.

"Because I love you," she said in an obvious tone.

"So you've said," he replied sardonically. "Many times… but it never stopped you from walking away before. So tell me, Blair." The single-minded intensity in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine. "What makes this any different?"

She looked away for a moment, attempting to gather her wits- she hadn't been prepared for this kind of interrogation.

Honestly, she'd kind of hoped they could celebrate first and talk later.

"I just… I wasn't ready before," she confessed. "I was scared, and I wasn't willing to face what us being together would mean. I wasn't ready to face… the rest of my life."

She met his eyes again, and, in an instant, recognized the desperate longing concealed in their dark, turbulent depths.

As much as he fought against it, as much as he was trying to hold her at arm's length… he wanted her to convince him. He wanted to believe in her.

The realization made her heart began to pound even faster- whether out of fear, or hope, or love, she couldn't even tell.

"But I'm ready now," she assured him, her voice warming with optimism. "For us to finally start our life together."

She smiled at him shyly, anticipating that giddy, boyish grin, that look of pure adoration he'd given her when they'd reunited so many months ago.

But he still looked… hesitant. Wary.

An unspoken question lingering in his eyes, although he was too proud to voice it.

"With Dan…" she began, struggling to put into words what she'd been thinking over for the past few hours. "I was just… desperate for something safe, something easy. I thought that way, I'd never get hurt." She shook her head regretfully. "But it wasn't what I really wanted."

Taking a step towards him, she reached out and took his hand in hers, her thumb stroking against the back of his knuckles.

He stared down at their intertwined fingers, the muscles of his throat rippling as he swallowed.

"You…" she said earnestly. "You're all I've ever wanted."

She took another step closer, until they were almost touching.

Gazing up at him with every bit of love and hope and sincerity she was feeling.

"It's always been you, Chuck," she whispered.

When he finally looked up at her, his dark eyes shining with moisture, she could see his guarded façade starting to crumble.

The taut lines of his face etched with fatigue and relief; his hand squeezing around hers as if he were afraid to let go.

And a moment later, his lips were on hers.

One kiss, sweet and reverent. Lingering. As if the touch of their lips were a balm, soothing the wounds they'd inflicted upon each other.

A long pause, their foreheads resting against each other, lips inches apart. Breathing each other in.

And then a second kiss, more passionate this time, more insistent.

Then another, and another, his tongue delving into her mouth, stroking aggressively against her own. He kissed her with a desperate intensity, his hands grasping her waist and pulling her flush against him.

Moments later, they were making out with abandon. She felt almost lightheaded, surrounded by his taste and touch and scent, but wanting- _needing_- even more of him. Their hands roamed eagerly across each other's skin, pulling at clothing in their desire to get closer. When the hidden side zipper on her dress didn't immediately yield to his fingers, Chuck made an impatient noise low in his throat, gripping it with enough force to rend the fabric from her body.

Stilling his hand with her own, she took several steps back, until she was just out of reach.

And then slowly, seductively, she slid the zipper down, her eyes never leaving his. With a soft swish, the chiffon slipped down to pool at her feet… leaving her clad only in a strapless bra and thong, burgundy silk trimmed in lace, and her black sling-back stilettos.

She could see his eyes darken with lust, burning a path over her exposed curves.

Her teeth sank coyly into her bottom lip as she stepped backwards, the invitation in her eyes and the sway of her hips beckoning him to follow. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, she bent down to undo the straps of her heels.

"Leave them on," he ordered, in that husky, authoritative voice that always made her blood quicken.

She obliged, reclining back onto the bed, and watched as he pushed himself away from the doorframe, stalking towards her with deliberate, cat-like strides.

He shrugged out of his robe, and just the sight of his taut, lithe body produced a throb of anticipation between her legs. As he crawled over her and leaned down for a kiss, the unmistakable evidence of his arousal pressed into her bare thigh, and she purred in approval against his mouth and reached down to caress him with her hand.

He braced himself above her on his forearms, gazing down over her body; she watched his eyes grow heavy-lidded, his breathing becoming erratic as she pumped her hand up and down his length.

"Blair…" he exhaled in warning.

But she continued to stroke him, delighting in how readily he responded to her touch.

When she finally paused, she took advantage of his momentary distraction to roll them both over, planting her palms against his chest as she straddled his hips.

In one swift movement, she undid the back clasp of her bra and tossed it aside. She leaned forward until she could feel his chest hair teasing against her hardened nipples, her hair cascading down around their heads in a curtain of silky curls. Pressing wet, suckling kisses down the side of his neck, she inhaled his scent, the heady mixture of soap and aftershave mingling with the natural aroma of his skin.

"Mmm," she murmured in appreciation.

She could feel his body arch up beneath her as she rolled her hips against him, the rigid length of his cock nestling into her slick cleft with only the barest scrap of lace separating them. They rocked against each other, savoring the delicious torment until they were both panting in arousal. Desperate to feel him inside her, Blair reached down and slid her thong to the side, pressing him against her entrance.

But he shifted beneath her, his body rolling to the side as he reached towards the drawer of his nightstand.

"You don't need to." She pressed her lips against his neck, feeling his movements still. She traced the outside of his ear with her tongue and then bit down on the lobe, just hard enough to make him squirm.

"Are you sure?" he asked hoarsely.

She quickly slid her thong off her hips and over her heels and repositioned herself over him. Reaching down, she wrapped her fingers around his length and gave it several firm, leisurely strokes.

"I want to feel you come inside me," she whispered against his ear.

The air left his lungs in a throaty groan as she felt him twitch in her hand.

Seconds later, she was lowering herself onto him, releasing a gratified little whimper as she felt him fill her completely.

"Fuck, Blair…" he groaned beneath her.

He wrapped his hands around her hips, moving around to cup her ass as she began riding him.

"Feel good?" she asked breathlessly.

She kept her pace deliberately slow, wanting to prolong their reunion for as long as possible. Gripping his shoulders for leverage, she sped up and then slowed down her rhythm; teasing him by withdrawing almost completely before plunging down on him again.

He cursed under his breath, hips arching up to meet hers.

"It's a yes or no question, Bass," she whispered in a teasing voice.

She repeated the motion, waiting for several long, tantalizing seconds this time before thrusting down on him again, and she saw his eyes clench shut in agonized pleasure.

Nothing turned her on quite like making Chuck lose control.

Angling her head back so he could see the curve of her neck, her hair spilling down her back, she began riding him with abandon, feeling that delicious ache begin to intensify inside her. She leaned forward, arching herself towards his mouth, just the way he liked.

Waiting to feel his lips, his tongue, on her breasts.

When she didn't, she looked down to find his gaze not focused on her body, but on her face- an intense, inscrutable look that almost made her falter in her movements.

Oddly discomfited by his stare, she tilted her head down and captured his mouth in a passionate kiss; she drew his lower lip between hers, sucking and nibbling on it until she felt him throb inside her.

"Mmm," she hummed in approval. Deciding to tease him some more, she kissed her way up his neck, letting her teeth scrape against his skin, then biting down just hard enough that he hissed a little.

Chuck had always liked it a little rough, she thought. Not to mention…

"You like the way I'm fucking you?" she murmured.

Dirty talk. His favorite.

"You feel so good inside me," Blair purred against his ear.

She tightened her muscles around him, delighting in his low moan, the upwards jerk of his hips.

"God, I've missed your cock," she whispered, as if divulging a very naughty secret. "No one else has ever" -she slid her hips up- "fit me as perfectly" -and then back down- "as you do."

Tracing the outside of his ear with her tongue, she continued to rock her hips against him, anticipating his enthusiastic response.

But she realized he'd gone oddly still beneath her.

And a stab of fear shot through her that she'd said something wrong.

Then his hands tightened around her hips- and before she knew what was happening, she found herself flat on her back and pinned against the bed; their bodies still connected, her arms clasped tightly around his neck.

Her gasp of surprise turned into a moan as he hitched her legs higher around his waist and began pounding into her. The force of his thrusts pressed her deep into the mattress, over and over again, her breaths coming out in short, eager pants.

When he rose up onto his knees for leverage, changing the angle of his thrusts, the sudden swell of pleasure caught her off guard; she grasped at the sheets, her heels digging into his ass as she felt herself rapidly approaching her peak.

"Oh God…" she choked out, her back arching off the mattress as she came, writhing and shuddering beneath him.

She still hadn't regained her senses when she felt his mouth on her breasts, kissing, licking, sucking on each pink bud in turn; then moving up to her shoulder, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh as he continued to thrust into her.

And her hips rocked up to meet him, her body responding instinctively, already seeking more. She grasped his shoulders, then his neck, then his hair; clinging to him, mindlessly urging him on.

His lips moved to her neck, and she arched it back to give him better access.

"Tell me what you want," he demanded, his voice low and rough against her ear.

Blair's response was a soft moan, the grip of her hands pulling him even closer.

"_Tell me_."

He pulled almost all the way out of her, leaving her whimpering in disappointment.

"You," she gasped. "I want you."

He remained still, poised above her, staring down at her with a burning intensity in his eyes.

"Say it again," he ordered hoarsely.

"I want you," she choked out, arching up against him in desperation. "Please, Chuck…"

The breath left her body in a satisfied groan as he thrust all the way into her again; and then again and again, each stroke intensifying the sweet, throbbing need coiling inside of her; filling her, stretching her, bringing her closer and closer to her peak.

She whined in protest when he paused suddenly- she was _so close_- hooking his arm under one thigh and propping her leg up against his shoulder.

And then, he began pounding into her without restraint, thrusting harder, and faster, fucking her with a wild abandon that awoke something primal deep within her. She could distantly hear her own moans, urging him on, begging for more, her body arching up to meet every stroke.

Suddenly, a rush of pleasure surged through her veins like a drug; it rose higher and higher, wrenching a hoarse cry from her throat as her senses exploded in a dizzying burst of rapture. She shuddered beneath him, her head thrown back against the pillow, her body overtaken by the almost blinding intensity of her orgasm.

She was still spiraling through ecstasy when he reached his peak, choking out a groan into her neck. She could feel his hips jerk with one last thrust, feel him pulse as he released deep inside her. Her thighs tightened around him, keeping them connected as they both quivered with aftershocks.

Minutes later- maybe hours- he finally rolled over onto his back with a little grunt of satisfaction, sliding an arm around her shoulders to pull her against him. They lay there together, her head tucked against his chest, gradually regaining their senses.

But her mind still felt hazy with bliss; the warm contentedness of being completely satisfied, physically and emotionally, for the first time in a very, very long time. Being here with Chuck, making love to him, holding him… it just felt right.

Like she was finally back where she belonged.

Snuggling closer, she draped one leg across his thighs and nuzzled her face into the curve of his neck. She could feel the beat of his heart thumping steadily beneath her palm, the rhythm of his warm breath against her forehead, lulling her further and further towards sleep.

As her eyelids started to flutter closed, the comfortable fog of slumber enveloping her brain, she forced herself to stay awake for one last moment.

"I missed you, Chuck," she whispered.

"I missed you too." She heard him murmur back, her mouth curving into a contented smile.

And so she drifted off to a deep, deep sleep, safely ensconced in the arms of the man she loved.

Unaware that he lay awake beside her, watching the shadows play across the ceiling until the early hours of the morning.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

**A/N:** Well, I did warn you this was going to get a little dirrrty. With three Rs. Hopefully that didn't offend anyone's... delicate sensibilities :)

As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter, or what you think/hope happens next (I'm planning about 4 more chapters). Oh, and feel free to include rants on the epic fail that is the current GG storyline- not that most of you waited for an invitation to do that anyway, haha.

High-five to Terrabeth for being an amazing beta/smut mentor/late night drunken chat partner.

And high-five to all of my reviewers for being awesome: _Stella296, dreamgurl, Natalie2010, 88Mary88, livelybass, partnersincrime, loopingread, notoutforawalk, ggoddess, Questacious, Edlover, Krazy4Spike, wrighthangal, Lena, no-name, LowerCase32, Iz, BlairGirlNo1, k, olimgossipgmail, jj, Nikki, Nelly, Ican'tbeMewithoutYou, theghostqueen, bfan, Infinitywr, Actresscs, pty, bonafide11, Trosev, 24hrscout, dancingcow, nat, LeftWriter224, Rossiee, Leah Westwick, Mademoiselle Bass, laura, Temp02, louboutinlove, annablake, Beky77, Annerl._


	5. Chapter 5

.

**Chapter 5**

__Stay or leave_  
><em>I want you<em>  
><em>Not to go<em>  
><em>But you did<em>_

The aroma of coffee wafting past her nose made Blair stir, slowly blinking herself awake. She yawned and extended her limbs in a delicious, full-body stretch, feeling the pleasant ache that seemed to permeate every one of her muscles.

Suddenly realizing that she was alone in the bed, she sat up, pulling the sheet tightly across her chest. The smell of coffee was coming from a tray perched on the nightstand, which also held a platter of warm, flaky croissants, a bowl of strawberries, and a pitcher of orange juice. When the grumbling of her stomach reminded her that she'd worked up quite an appetite, she made short work of one of the pastries and licked the buttery flakes off her fingertips.

She noticed that there was a silk robe draped over the chaise, as well as a pink and white sundress and matching accessories. She furrowed her brow in confusion before remembering that she'd shown up in an evening gown, and couldn't very well leave in it- at least not without scandalous photos of her "walk of shame" ending up on Gossip Girl within minutes.

Not that she was actually ashamed of anything she'd done with Chuck last night. But considering that she'd jumped straight from a royal marriage into a high profile romance with Dan Humphrey, it was probably best for her to avoid the spotlight right now. Very thoughtful of him, she thought with an affectionate little smile.

Although she was hoping they could just spend the entire day hiding out at the penthouse, preferably in bed. Stretching back against the still-rumpled sheets, she felt a little throb of pleasure coursing her body as she recalled, in vivid detail, how they'd rumpled them the night before.

She'd certainly never forgotten how good the sex was with Chuck; the man was just exceptionally talented. She may have even, on occasion, fantasized about it to get her through some other… less inspired performances.

But the memories didn't hold a candle to the real thing, which had been nothing short of… mind-blowing.

She was just reaching for another croissant, having decided that she'd probably need to keep her strength up, when the bedroom door swung inwards and Chuck appeared in the doorway.

Her bright smile faded somewhat when she saw he was already fully-dressed, in a navy blue three-piece suit complete with coordinated tie and pocket square- and she felt an unexpected nervousness flutter in her stomach.

"Hey," she greeted him. "I wondered where you'd run off to."

"Just taking Monkey for his morning walk. If he doesn't get out before nine…" Chuck trailed off with a telling little shrug.

"He makes a mess in the apartment?" Blair guessed, wincing slightly at the thought.

"Oh no, he'll hold it in until he explodes," Chuck gave a wry quirk of his lips. "But he starts following me around with this high-pitched whine, it's absolutely excruciating."

Blair laughed, heartened by the almost-smile on his face.

But the uneasy feeling in her stomach refused to ebb. She watched him unbutton his suit jacket and shrug it off, draping it over the back of a chair, while she tried to pinpoint the source of her trepidation.

Perhaps it was because she felt so underdressed, she decided. After all, she was wearing nothing but a bed sheet, her hair falling in disarray around her bare shoulders- and he looked ready to attend a board meeting.

Clearly she needed to level the playing field.

"Well, now that you're done with that…" Blair peeped up at him through her lashes, a coy smile on her face.

She reclined back onto her elbows, her hair fanning out across the pillows in a swath of tousled waves. No longer held in place, the sheet wrapped around her chest slipped down a few inches, revealing the upper swells of her breasts.

"How about you come back to bed?" she purred, her eyes roaming suggestively over his body. "I wasn't done showing you how much I missed you."

She caught a flash of something in his dark eyes before he looked away, the lines of his face tightening into an impassive mask. When he didn't respond, the silence between them stretching out for several long seconds, she could feel her stomach start to clench.

"Chuck?" she asked hesitantly.

His eyes returned to her for a brief moment, betraying nothing.

Then he took a seat on the edge of the bed, facing away from her, his palms resting lightly on his knees in a show of nonchalance. Swallowing nervously, she sat back up against the headboard and folded the sheet more securely around her torso.

He was only inches from the still-warm imprint of his body beside her- but there was an almost palpable distance between them.

"Blair…" He paused, rubbing one hand along the side of his jaw, the familiar gesture producing a bittersweet pang in her chest. "We should talk."

Upon hearing the same words she'd said to Dan, only hours earlier, she felt her body tense with apprehension.

_Don't be ridiculous_, she chided herself. _Of course you need to talk._

"Sure," she agreed, threading her fingers together in her lap. "What do you… want to talk about?"

She cast a longing look at his back, wishing she had the courage to bridge the gap between them- she'd feel so much more at ease if she could just touch him, feel the comforting warmth of his body.

Chuck cleared his throat, his gaze fixed on the wall ahead of him.

"I called the ground crew," he said finally. "Pushed takeoff back until noon, but I don't want to delay my flight much longer than that."

She stared at him, her lips parting in dismay.

"If I get in any later, I'll be completely useless for my meetings tomorrow morning," he went on, his hands flexing unconsciously against his thighs. "You know… because of the time difference."

"Meetings?" she repeated, her brow furrowing.

He nodded.

"I need to approve the renovation plans as soon as possible," he said distantly. "They can't proceed until I do."

"Oh," she murmured.

Well, of course he would still have to go over to tie up some loose ends- she couldn't expect him to just neglect his professional obligations.

She still hated the thought of him leaving though, even for a few days. Maybe it was selfish, but she'd just gotten him back and she wasn't prepared to share him with anyone.

"So how soon can you come back?" she asked brightly.

They could head out to the Hamptons next weekend, she thought, just the two of them. A private retreat would be the perfect chance to reconnect. She could ask Lily for the keys to the van der Woodsen estate-

"I'm not sure yet," His low voice interrupted her daydreaming. "Two years was a conservative estimate. If everything goes according to plan, we could conceivably finish in only a year and a half."

"A year and a half?" she echoed.

She could feel the blood thrumming through her ears as she absorbed the implications of his words.

He nodded again.

"You're still… moving there?" she asked incredulously.

"I'm in charge of this project, Blair," he replied in an even tone. "And I can't oversee it from Manhattan."

"Put someone else in charge of it," she argued. "It's your company, you can do whatever you want."

"This _is_ what I want."

She was taken aback by the quiet resolve in his voice.

"What?" she exhaled in disbelief.

"Like you said, it's an amazing opportunity," he repeated. "It would be foolish of me to pass it up."

"But… what about us?" she protested.

He remained silent, staring down at his loosely-clasped hands.

"Do you… want me to come with you?" she asked hopefully.

She hadn't even considered that possibility before- but it was certainly an attractive one. They could start over together, out from under the microscope of the Upper East Side, away from the constant surveillance of Gossip Girl. After the damage she'd done to her reputation over the past year, the idea of a temporary reprieve held a lot of appeal.

But Chuck wasn't even looking her in the eye, let alone offering to whisk her off to Europe. He just sat there in silence- his elbows propped on his thighs, his fingers intertwined. His gaze cast downwards.

She could see in the rigidity of his posture, the guardedness of his expression, that he was deliberately closing himself off from her.

And she knew she couldn't afford to let him.

"Chuck…" she began gently. "I know we have a lot to figure out, but we can't do that on opposite sides of an ocean."

She scooted a few inches closer to him and placed her hand on his forearm. He tensed beneath her touch, but didn't pull away.

"Whether we're in New York, or London, it doesn't matter," she said earnestly, "as long as we're together."

Chuck said nothing, just looking down at her hand on his arm.

"So if you need to go, then…" She took a deep breath. "I want to come with you."

"Blair…" Her name came out as a hushed whisper .

"I can take a leave of absence from school and maybe… take some classes there." She slid her hand down to cover his. "Or I could… find an internship. My mom has a lot of contacts in the fashion industry there, I'm sure she could help set something up-"

"_Blair_," he repeated, more insistently this time.

He looked up at her, and her breath caught at the intensity in his eyes.

"I think it's probably best if we don't…" He cleared his throat, turning his gaze back towards the wall. "Jump back into a relationship right now."

The silence that fell between them was deafening.

"But…" she faltered. "You said, last night…"

When the realization hit her that he hadn't actually said anything last night, never confirmed her assumption that they were back together, she felt tears start to clog the back of her throat.

"Last night…" He exhaled a quiet sigh. "We weren't thinking straight."

Blair shook her head vehemently, because she knew it wasn't true- of course she'd been thinking straight. She'd been thinking straight for the first time in months.

"It just doesn't make sense for us to try and make this work right now," he went on in a detached tone, not meeting her eyes. "With my work commitments, and everything you have going on here…"

He drew his hand out from underneath hers, which dropped limply back down onto the bed.

"I think we should just… live our own lives for now," he finally concluded.

The words hit her like a physical blow, knocking the wind out of her lungs.

He didn't want her?

After she'd come back to him last night, laying everything on the line with a heartfelt confession? After she'd… given herself to him, assuming it was part of a passionate, romantic reunion?

Swallowing back her rapidly rising tears, she felt a sudden, unexpected surge of indignation swell up inside her.

"And you didn't figure this out until _after_ we had sex?" she asked tartly.

Chuck's eyes darted up to hers, widening at the sharpness in her tone.

"Blair, I didn't-" he began.

"You didn't what?" she interrupted him. "I said I loved you, that I wanted to be with you and only you. You didn't think us sleeping together would actually mean something?"

He ran a hand across his eyes.

"It did, Blair," he said quietly. "But it's more complicated than that."

"So complicated that you decided immediately afterwards that we should 'live our own lives'?" she echoed in a mocking voice.

Chuck remained silent, his expression shielded from view by the back of his hand. She used the opportunity to lean over and grab the robe he'd left out; the gesture that had previously seemed so thoughtful now felt like an attempt to get rid of her with a minimum of fuss.

"If you just wanted to get laid, Chuck, you could have sent me away and found someone less… _complicated_," she continued in an increasingly caustic tone, tying the silky fabric around her body with swift, forceful motions. "I assume you have an army of highly-paid professionals on call to take care of those sorts of… urges."

She welcomed the tight coiling of anger in the pit of her stomach; she knew it was the only thing keeping her tears at bay.

"You're accusing _me_ of using _you_ for sex?" Chuck looked up at her in disbelief.

Refusing to back down, she returned his look with a haughty stare of her own.

"And how long was it, exactly, after you broke up with your boyfriend," he countered, "before you were in my bed? An _hour_? _Half_ an hour?"

She blinked in surprise at the bitterness in his tone.

"How long before you were naked on top of me," his voice growing rougher with every word, "moaning about how much you'd missed my cock? Should I just be grateful the comparison was favorable?"

The hostility burning in his eyes rendered her momentarily speechless.

"Wait, is that…" she began, before suddenly narrowing her eyes at him. "Is that what this is about? Are you doing this to get back at me?"

His jaw clenched in frustration as he stared back at her.

"You're pissed at me for rejecting you, so now you get to reject me? Is that the game we're playing, Chuck?"

"It's not-"

"Or do you just want me to chase after you?" she continued unabated, her voice increasing in volume. "Follow you to London? Get on my knees and beg you to take me back? Is that what it's going to-"

"_Goddammit, Blair_, it's not all about you!" he practically shouted at her.

She recoiled, staring at him wide-eyed as his words echoed around the small room.

Chuck never raised his voice at her.

She watched as he leaned forward, resting his face in both palms, his shoulders rising and falling with several deep, steadying breaths.

"It's not all about you," he repeated quietly.

He raised his head to look at her again- and she was struck, at that moment, by how very _tired_ he looked.

The drawn, weary lines of his face; the dark shadows under his eyes; the sad, almost defeated expression in their hazel depths.

"I know it's not… all about me," she said softly, feeling her anger start to dissipate as quickly as it had risen. "But I thought that us being together was important to you. I thought that… I was important to you."

He gave a humorless little laugh.

"You were the _only_ thing that was important to me, Blair," he said in a quiet tone. "You know that. I would've done anything for you."

She saw a flash of repressed emotion in his eyes, just a split second before he averted them.

"All I ever wanted was for you to be happy," he murmured.

"And now?" she asked hesitantly- not entirely sure she wanted to hear the answer.

"I finally realized," he replied pensively, "that I was so wrapped up in your happiness, there was no one left to care about mine. And… I was miserable."

"But I _do_ care," she protested. "I've always cared, Chuck."

"Really."

She frowned in confusion at the cynicism in his voice.

"When you goaded me into kissing you so that you could slap me across the face and tell me I was a piece of shit?" he offered with a tinge of animosity. "Or when you crashed my therapy session to get tips on how to improve your relationship with your fiancé? Was that you caring about me?"

Her lips parted in surprise; he'd never once brought up those incidents before, let alone given any indication that he was bothered by them.

"Or when I woke up in the hospital," he went on, swallowing tightly, "after we'd promised to spend the rest of our lives together… only to find out that you'd abandoned me, without a word of explanation as to what I'd done wrong? Besides almost dying, I mean," he added roughly.

"You know why I did that, Chuck-" she began to protest.

But an abrupt shake of his head made it clear that he wasn't interested in revisiting her ill-conceived bout of religious fervor.

"Or maybe it was when I begged you not to marry Louis, and you went ahead and married him right in front of me? Or when you asked me to wait for you…" He snorted out a mirthless laugh. "To wait a _year_ so you could get out of your marriage on your own- and only days later, you're kissing _Dan Humphrey_ in my _own fucking bedroom?_

"And then you told me not to hurt _Dan_," he recalled bitterly. "Because God forbid, right?"

Blair gazed back at him in remorseful silence, unable to dispute any of his accusations.

"Or was it when you told me you weren't in love with me anymore?"

Her eyes cast downwards at his softly-uttered words, at the statement she wished with all her heart she could take back.

She knew it hadn't been true. She'd probably even known at the time.

She'd been trying to push him away- and she'd succeeded more than she'd ever realized.

"Tell me when, during all of that…" he continued, his voice wavering almost imperceptibly, "you supposedly _cared_ about me?"

A single tear escaped the edge of her eyelid, rolling down her cheek to hang tremulously on the edge of her jaw.

"I always did, Chuck," she whispered sadly. "Even though I didn't always… show it. I never meant to hurt you."

She looked up to see his jaw clench slightly in response.

"Even when you came here last night, to tell me that you were finally ready to be with me," he went on in a subdued tone. "You never asked… how I felt, or what I wanted. You never even apologized. You just… decided that you wanted me again, and I'm supposed to be okay with that."

When he turned to face her, her breath caught in her throat at the wounded look in his dark eyes; the sheer weight of his emotions finally overwhelming the walls he'd tried to put up between them.

"Tell me how I'm supposed to be okay with that, Blair," he said softly, his voice saturated with hurt.

She could feel another tear slip down her cheek- and then another, and another, soundlessly dropping down onto the sheets.

"I don't know," she admitted, swallowing back a sob.

Just seeing Chuck in pain produced a physical ache in her chest, like a vise tightening around her heart. It provoked that familiar urge to comfort him, to fix whatever was wrong. To chase the dark shadows away from his face like she'd always been able to before.

But this wasn't like before. He wasn't hurting because of his father, or his business, or the random relatives who kept showing up to ruin his life. He wasn't hurting because of another bout of self-destructiveness, another downward spiral he had no one to blame for except himself.

He was hurting because of her.

Because she'd taken his love for granted, treating it like her due instead of something precious and irreplaceable.

Because she'd broken his heart over and over again- just assuming it would still be waiting for her, perfectly intact, whenever she decided to come reclaim it.

She'd been so foolish.

"I am… so sorry, Chuck," she said in a shaky voice, brushing the tears off her cheeks with the back of her hands. "I know I can't take any of it back, but… I want to try and make it up to you. To earn your forgiveness."

"I've already forgiven you," he murmured. "I think I'd forgive you anything, Blair. Sometimes it scares me, how much I'd forgive you."

The sad resignation in his voice dampened any happiness she felt at his words.

"But you said if we got back together… it should be as equals," he continued in a low tone. "And that's not what this feels like."

"It feels like…" He paused, staring back down at his hands in his lap, "You're finally settling for me. After exhausting all of your other options."

She began shaking her head vigorously.

"Chuck, that's not-"

"I know it's not," he interjected quietly. "I'm just telling you… how it feels."

She gave a little nod of admission, staring down at her fingers twisting together.

She hated that she'd made him feel that way.

And she hated even more than she had no idea how to fix it.

"I just think… I need some time," he finally concluded.

"But… two years?" she asked dejectedly.

It seemed like more than a long time. It seemed like a lifetime.

"No." He shook his head. "I doubt I could stay away from you that long even if I tried," he added wryly, a ghost of a smile crossing over his face.

"Then…" she trailed off, looking up at him with hopeful eyes.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "Maybe a few months. Maybe longer."

She nodded again, trying not to look as crestfallen as she felt.

If this was what he needed- if this was what _they_ needed- then she knew that she had to accept it. Despite the almost irresistible temptation to just throw herself into his arms and bawl like a five-year-old until he promised not to leave her.

She felt him shift position on the bed, and then, to her surprise, his hand was resting atop the back of hers, his fingers twining gently between her own.

"I need to figure out how to be happy without you, Blair," he said honestly. "Before I can ever be happy with you. I need to know that I _can_ be happy without you."

"You need to be Chuck Bass before you can be Blair Waldorf's boyfriend?" she asked, giving him a hesitant little smile, and he chuckled softly.

"Something like that," he agreed.

They sat in silence for a few moments, enjoying their unspoken truce. His thumb stroked across the back off her hand and she tried to suppress the ripple of goosebumps that ran up her arm.

"So…" she ventured. "What are we, then?"

He appeared to ponder the question for a moment.

"Friends," he responded at last. "I think… that's all we can be. For now."

"So you can…. date… other people, if you want," she murmured, staring down at their clasped hands.

After the past year, she knew she certainly had no right to complain- but the mere idea of Chuck getting involved with someone else was enough to make her throat tighten.

"Either of us can," he replied. "…if we want."

She nodded, blinking back the moisture that had started to re-gather in her eyes.

"That's the last thing on my mind right now, Blair." His low, reassuring voice soothed her frayed nerves, and she gave him a strained little smile.

For one long moment, they simply gazed at each other. His dark, inscrutable eyes studied her face intently, as if trying to imprint it on his memory.

Then he leaned over, pressing a kiss against her cheek, and she felt her eyes flutter shut at the contact; the brief, chaste touch of his lips feeling somehow more intimate than anything they'd done the night before.

"I love you," he murmured.

So softly, she thought for a moment she might have imagined it.

"I love you too," she whispered back, clasping his hand tightly in her own, as if willing him to believe her.

But then he pulled away, gently releasing her hand and standing up, and she watched sadly as he retrieved his suit jacket and shrugged it back on.

They didn't say goodbye- it was clear neither of them really knew how.

He just gave her a bittersweet little smile.

And she smiled back, his figure blurring through a haze of tears.

A moment later, he was gone.

The ding of the elevator the last vestige of his presence.

And she remained there- sitting on the bed, staring off into the distance- for an indeterminable amount of time. The quiet _tick-tock_ of the hallway clock echoing through the stillness, slowly marking off the minutes.

She could feel the tears drying on her cheeks, a touch of soreness in the back of her throat. The pervading sense of emptiness that left her feeling brittle and hollow; the intense feeling of loss that gradually morphed from an acute pain into a dull, persistent ache, radiating throughout her entire body.

It was only through enormous force of will that she eventually pulled herself out of Chuck's bed. With slow, methodical movements, she traded her robe for the flowered sundress and little white cardigan, slipping her feet into the matching wedge sandals… taking a moment to admire the pink enamel bracelet as she clasped it around her wrist.

And then finally, with a deep, cleansing breath, she turned towards the door.

Chin up, head held high.

This was no time to sit around feeling sorry for herself, she thought determinedly.

She had a best friend to win back.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

**A/N:** So… hate me for breaking them up? Love me for giving Blair a reality check? Very curious to hear your thoughts.

The coming chapters will fast-forward through the next few months, which I have loosely outlined, but I'm always open to suggestions! And one of you did notice a detail that will become important in the next chapter- feel free to guess :)

Thanks as always to Terrabeth for betaing like a boss. Go poke her to get writing so I have something to beta too.

And thanks to my reviewers, I 3 you guys: _88Mary88, Iz, flipped, theghostqueen, Rossiee, Mademoiselle Bass, Ladynet, Ican'tbeMewithoutYou, livelybass, blair bass, Kathrynm37, CBBW3words8letters, LowerCase32, anon, Trosev, Love Still Stands, dreamgurl, Clair Carlyle, Rf, wrighthangal, annablake, pty, LeftWriter224, svenjen, bonafide11, in x disarray, Meg, XY and Z, scarlett2u, ggoddess, tiny, LunaSeasMoonChild, Krazy4Spike, Nikki, Leah DarkParadise, LuLu M, Amelie Lefort, bfan, Itsrainingcatsandpumps, HazelFromBehind, Temp02, being mimi, Lena, rani, jsta, Questacious, louboutinlove, and odyjha. _

Show-related note: I'm on hiatus from watching until the finale, but I read an interesting comment in a recent Josh Safran interview- apparently to the many fans who hate the current storyline, all he can say is… he's sorry.

Don't be sorry, Josh. Just unfuck it. Stop rewriting show history, screwing with characterization, and wasting talented actors, and stop pitting your fans against each other and then blaming them for hating a pairing it was perfectly obvious they would hate over a year ago. Storylines shouldn't need to be explained in interviews, and character motivation shouldn't need to be defended via twitter- good writing should just speak for itself. Honestly, I'm not convinced you're even still capable of writing Chuck and Blair the way they deserve, but I hope- for the sake of the fans who've stuck with this show for almost five years now- that you prove me wrong.


	6. Chapter 6

.

**Chapter 6**

Serena hummed to herself as the elevator ascended, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the mirrored doors and pausing to smooth down a few unruly blonde waves. The doors slid open with a cheerful ding and she stepped out into the foyer, taking a quick look around before continuing through the apartment.

"Mom?" she called out.

"I'll be down in just a second!" Lily's voice echoed from the top of the stairs. "Just looking for some… shoes…"

Serena smiled wryly, knowing from experience that "just a second" meant "at least fifteen minutes."

Hearing the muted jangle of her cell phone coming from her handbag, she quickly rummaged around until she found it.

And frowned in surprise upon seeing "Blair" lit up across her screen.

Blair hadn't contacted her in months- she'd given up after about fifteen unreturned phone calls. But apparently their conversation the night before had motivated her to try again.

Serena's finger hovered over the "accept" button for several seconds, before she sighed and pressed "ignore".

Maybe she'd feel up to it next time, she thought with a sad twist of her stomach.

She dropped her phone back into her bag, made her way to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of orange juice. Leaning back against the counter, she stared down into her glass, trying to think of something besides Blair, or Dan, or Blair and Dan, or any of the things she'd spent the last four months trying to avoid thinking about.

The only upside to this whole situation was that it had compelled her to find some direction, to figure out what she really wanted to do with herself. Because what she didn't want, she'd realized, was to spend her life as a superficial socialite whose self-worth was measured by other people's attention and praise. And she certainly hadn't wanted to spend her life being looked down upon by her former best friend and the boy she'd once considered the love of her life, both of whom had made their disdain for her intellect painfully obvious.

She would never understand how befriending each other had caused them to think so little of her.

Maybe, she thought with a twinge of hurt, they'd thought she was shallow and stupid all along.

So it was probably a combination of restlessness, loneliness, and a desire to prove them wrong that had sparked her sudden motivation to get started on a career. Plus, it distracted her from feeling sorry for herself, from dwelling on everything she'd lost.

Even if she sometimes missed her best friend so much, it made her want to cry.

Maybe she could go get a pedicure after brunch, she thought, nibbling on her lower lip as she eyed her pale pink-tipped toes. Maybe a brighter shade, something more… cheerful.

The ding of the elevator turned her attention back towards the foyer, her lips tilting upwards expectantly.

Until her eyes met a deep brown pair, both sets widening identically as they caught sight of each other.

"Oh hey… Serena," Dan said awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the other.

"Dan," she replied in an abrupt tone.

She didn't even bother pretending to be happy to see him. She'd given up on false niceties months ago, somewhere around the time she'd finally realized that Dan simply didn't care about her feelings anymore.

It didn't make it hurt any less… but it did give her a certain mean satisfaction.

She took a long, slow drink of her juice, her gaze remaining fixed on his in a challenging stare.

"I wasn't, uh, expecting to see you here," he commented, his need to fill the tense silence almost palpable.

"What, am I supposed to avoid my own mother on the off-chance I might run into you?" Serena shot back.

Dan stiffened in surprise at the sharpness of her tone.

"Oh… uh, no. Of course not."

Serena nodded tersely, her expression not inviting further conversation.

Another uncomfortable pause.

"I was actually looking for my dad," he rambled on, "but he hasn't been by the loft, and his cell went straight to voicemail…"

He really didn't seem to be taking the hint though.

"So I was hoping to find him here, maybe go out for breakfast…"

Maybe because he never, ever-

"I just… kind of needed someone to talk to."

… _ever_ stopped talking.

"Because, well, Blair and I broke up last night…"

How the hell had she ever put up with that constant barrage of words? The guy was just in love with the sound of his own-

"Wait, what?" she asked sharply, her eyes snapping up to his as she absorbed his last statement.

"Blair, uh, broke up with me," Dan said sheepishly, averting his gaze.

Well, that did explain the unexpected phone call, she thought to herself.

And Dan's more-wrinkled-than-usual shirt and hangdog expression.

"Sorry to hear that," she muttered.

She was fully aware that she'd never sounded less sorry about anything in her entire life.

"Thanks…" He heaved a deep sigh, her tone obviously lost on him. "And I don't really have anyone else to talk to about it, so…"

He trailed off, still wearing that woe-is-me expression, and Serena fought to suppress an eyeroll.

"I'm sure that _Nate_ would be more than happy to…" -_listen to you whine_- "uh, talk to you about it," she suggested, hoping she'd managed to communicate that she, on the other hand, was not.

"Well, that might be kind of awkward," he replied dryly. "Since he lives with Chuck, and Blair is presumably… there at this very moment, so…"

Serena's lips formed a silent "oh" as she stared at him, understanding finally dawning.

Chuck's announcement had forced Blair's hand.

She'd spent the better part of a year rejecting him, inventing outlandish excuses for why they couldn't be together and, more recently, acting like she barely remembered ever loving him at all. But the second he tried to move on for good, to make a life for himself away from her, she'd reeled him right back in. And Chuck loved her too much to even put up a fight.

Serena felt a fresh surge of indignation on her brother's behalf.

"Yeah…" Dan blew out another long-suffering sigh. "Guess I probably should've seen this coming, huh?" he said in a self-deprecating tone. "Didn't matter what I did or how well I treated her… she was always going to go back to him."

Serena stared at him, her eyes narrowing.

"Are you… seriously expecting sympathy from me?" she asked disbelievingly.

Dan blinked in surprise.

"Uh… no, I mean… I didn't-"

"Good," she cut him off.

The two stood in silence for a moment, not looking at each other.

"But yeah," she added after a moment.

His eyes met hers questioningly.

"You should've seen this coming," she clarified.

Dan stared at her for a moment, and then looked away again, at a rare loss for words.

And this, Serena realized- this must be what Schadenfreude felt like.

She'd always been far too good-natured and forgiving to understand the appeal before.

"So sorry to keep you waiting, Serena," Lily said brightly as she made her way down the stairs. "Ever since we got back from St. Lucia, I haven't been able to find a thing in my closet…"

She paused momentarily when her eyes landed on Dan.

"Oh, hello Daniel," she said in surprise.

"Hey Lily, I was just, uh… looking for my dad," he repeated, his eyes darting back and forth between the two women.

"Oh, he went to the farmer's market this morning, he must've forgotten to take his cell phone," Lily replied with a polite, but not especially warm smile. "I'm sure he'll be back shortly if you want to wait," she added graciously.

"Shall we?" She turned to her daughter with an expectant smile.

Serena nodded, grateful to escape, and with that, the two women headed for the exit with nary a backwards glance.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Several hours later, Serena was walking into the lobby of her apartment building in the Village, her stomach full of brioche French toast and berry compote, feet thoroughly pampered, and toenails livened up with a bright shade of coral.

Her new pedicure really did make her feet look happier, she thought, admiring them as the elevator carried her up to the tenth floor.

Although, that could be the bottomless mimosas talking.

She was pondering whether she had time for a nap before getting started on the assignment for her first film class, when she heard her cell phone ring again.

She pulled it out as she walked down the hallway towards her apartment, not surprised to see Blair's name pop up again. She let it ring several times before hitting "ignore," so it wouldn't be obvious that she'd chosen not to answer.

Her conversation with Dan this morning had left her feeling so sad, and angry, and hurt, as if she'd ripped open a partially-healed wound. She simply wasn't ready to rehash the whole situation with Blair.

Then she rounded the corner to her apartment- and stopped in her tracks.

There, sitting on the floor next to her front door, was Blair.

She had her knees folded to one side, the skirt of her flowered sundress tucked carefully around them, a large paper bag resting on the carpet next to her. And she was studying the screen of her cell phone with her lower lip caught between her teeth.

Until her eyes darted upwards, widening as they met Serena's.

She glanced down to the phone in Serena's hand, and a flicker of hurt flashed across her face.

Which she quickly hid behind a smile as she rose to her feet.

"Serena," she greeted her cheerfully, brushing her skirt off with brisk hand movements. "I was just in the neighborhood and realized I hadn't gotten a chance to see your new place yet."

"Oh… right," Serena replied, nonplussed.

And admittedly, a little sheepish for getting caught ignoring Blair's call.

"I brought cappuccinos and croissants," Blair added brightly. She bent to retrieve the bag from the floor and turned back with an expectant smile.

Serena blinked in confusion, feeling like she'd accidentally stumbled into some sort of alternate universe. One where she and Blair Waldorf were still best friends.

They'd barely even spoken in months, but Blair was clearly pretending that the only reason she hadn't visited so far was… lack of opportunity.

"Shall we?" Blair chirped, and gestured towards the door.

Serena stared at her for a moment before unlocking the front door and leading the way into her apartment.

It was decorated in Serena's trademark bohemian-meets-couture style, with bright splashes of color and eclectic artwork embellishing the expensive furnishings. She'd spent a lot of time making it feel like a real home-after all, it was the first place of her own she'd ever had.

"Oh, this apartment is adorable!" Blair enthused, depositing her bags on the coffee table and taking a look around.

"Thanks," Serena replied with an uneasy smile.

She watched as Blair made her way around the living room, pausing to admire a handmade ceramic vase and comment on how well it coordinated with the throw pillows.

"You know, I was thinking of doing some redecorating myself," she said, taking a seat on the sofa. "I mean, my bedroom has barely changed since I was fifteen. Maybe you could give me some pointers?"

"Um… sure," Serena murmured.

Blair parted the top of the paper bag she'd brought and peeked inside.

"What kind of croissant do you want?" she asked. "I brought some chocolate-filled, I know those are your favorites -"

"Oh, I'm not hungry," Serena interrupted with a little shake of her head.

She steeled herself against Blair's crestfallen expression.

"I just got back from brunch with my mom, so…" she offered by way of explanation.

"Oh, okay." Blair sat back on the sofa and looked up at her hopefully. "Do you want to watch a movie? I brought a few with me, I thought maybe we could revive our Sunday afternoon tradition."

Serena closed her eyes for a second, releasing a soft sigh.

"Blair…" she began. "Why are you here?"

Obviously taken aback by her directness, Blair stared at her in silence for a moment before nibbling nervously on her lower lip.

"Because… I miss you," she admitted in a quiet tone. "And… I want us to be friends again."

"Just like that, huh?" Serena said in a flat voice, arching an eyebrow.

"Well, I know we have some things to… talk about," Blair conceded.

_Understatement of the century_, Serena thought to herself.

"But… I broke up with Dan, so…" Blair looked up her with an expectant expression.

Looking like… she expected Serena to be happy, and grateful, and just forget about the last few months, even though she knew damn well that Blair's decision to leave Dan didn't have a thing to do with her.

She swallowed back the bitterness she could feel rising up inside her throat.

"I know," she replied shortly.

"You do?" Blair frowned in surprise. "But… it's not even on Gossip Girl yet…"

"I ran into Dan this morning,"

"Oh."

The single syllable echoed around the apartment.

Serena didn't respond- just crossed her arms over her chest- and Blair seemed flustered, clearly having expected a more hospitable reaction to this news.

"Anyway," she went on tentatively, "I was hoping that you and I could just… put this whole situation with Dan behind us, and go back to the way things used to be?"

"_Situation?_" Serena echoed.

"Right, you know…" Blair hesitated, a little furrow appearing between her brows. "Our relationship. I mean, our romantic relationship. That's definitely done."

"Honestly, we should've just stayed friends to begin with," she added with a sigh. "It just felt like we were… forcing it, you know?"

"Forcing it," Serena repeated.

She tried to control the fury throbbing through her veins, which had apparently left her incapable of doing anything but parroting Blair's words back at her.

"Don't get me wrong, he's a great guy, but…" Blair shook her head. "He's just not for me. You can't just… make yourself love someone."

At that, Serena's tenuous hold on her temper finally snapped.

"_That's_ why you threw away seventeen years of friendship?" she asked in disbelief. "So you could try to _force yourself_ to love someone I already did? So you could date him for a few months and then just toss him aside and run right back to Chuck?"

Blair flinched at the anger in her voice.

"I told you, Serena, it was a mistake…"

"No, Blair. A mistake is something you do _once_," she retorted. "Something you do over and over again no matter how many people it hurts? That's a choice."

"So I made a… bad choice," Blair said defensively. "I didn't do it to hurt you."

"No, you just didn't _care_ if it hurt me."

"Of course I cared!" Blair countered. "I asked if you if it was okay with you and you said it was!"

"You asked me _after_ I'd already caught you two kissing twice," Serena corrected her. "And I said I would _try_ to be okay with it, because it was pretty obvious by that point that I had no other choice. And you took that as, what, an invitation to kiss him right in front of me? How lucky I am to have such a sweet, considerate best friend who would be there for me like that while my _grandmother was dying_."

She paused to take a breath, feeling tears start to well up in her eyes.

"God, when was the last time you thought about _anyone_ besides yourself, Blair?" she asked finally.

Blair's jaw tightened.

"Oh, that's rich," she shot back. "Coming from the person who slept with _my boyfriend_."

"I knew you'd throw that in my face. You've done it every time you've gotten mad at me for the last five years." Serena sighed in frustration. "But you know what, Blair?"

Blair stared back at her, her lips pressed into a tight, irritated line.

"I regret that more than… anything I've ever done in my entire life," Serena said in a low voice. "I would've done anything to take it back, to undo what I did.

"And when I came back from boarding school, and Nate tried to start something between us… I told him _no_," she went on. "I told him that you were my best friend, and you loved him… and that was just the way things were."

"It's easy enough to brush off someone you consider a drunken mistake," Blair countered sharply.

"It wasn't like I didn't have feelings for him- I _did_," Serena said honestly. "But our friendship was more important to me. _You_ were more important to me. But after the last year, I've come to realize that… it doesn't mean the same to you."

Blair shook her head, looking as if she were about to argue the point, but Serena went on.

"It's not even about Dan." She shook her head. "It's about _us_. We haven't been best friends for a long time now, Blair."

Blair stared back at her in dismay.

"You and Dan… just proved it," she concluded sadly.

She realized that she hadn't even admitted to herself just how far apart they'd grown apart. Not until this moment.

"So… that's it then?" Blair asked, her voice wavering up an octave. "You're not even going to try to fix it? You're just going to… give up on us?"

Serena stared down at the floor, contemplating that same question she'd been asking herself.

"I don't want to," she answered honestly. "But this, Blair," she gestured towards the bag of food. "This isn't trying to fix it. This is just… pretending everything's fine between us. And it's not. I can't be like Chuck. I just can't… forget everything that's happened and go back to the way things were."

Blair swallowed visibly.

"Chuck…" she faltered. "Chuck left."

Serena's mouth fell open.

"He did?" she asked, incredulous.

Blair nodded, clasping her hands together in her lap.

"He said he didn't think it was a good idea for us to… jump back into a relationship yet," she explained, staring down at her hands. "And he wanted some… space, so he's going to London for… a little while, anyway."

"Huh," Serena murmured, surprised and impressed by her brother's sudden display of backbone.

"He still has a lot of work responsibilities to deal with over there," Blair added earnestly. "And this move is really great for his career, so… it definitely made sense for him to go. And it won't be for too long… maybe only a few months."

She paused and cleared her throat.

"I think… it'll be good for us," she concluded, a forced note of optimism in her voice.

She sounded like she was trying to convince herself, Serena realized- but Blair's attempt at positivity couldn't quite conceal the dejection in her expression, or the sag of her shoulders.

And Serena couldn't help feeling a surge of sympathy for her heartbroken friend.

"So…" Blair looked up at her, her eyes shining with regret. "What about me and you? What do we do?"

"I don't know," Serena admitted.

The two remained in silence for a moment.

"Maybe we could try just… hanging out sometimes, and see how things go," she said finally. "We can't just snap our fingers and have our old friendship back, you know?"

Blair nodded, disappointment evident in her face.

"But maybe eventually… we can have a better one," she suggested.

"I'd like that," Blair murmured.

The silence stretched out between them again. Neither quite knew what else to say.

"Well…" Blair cleared her throat. "I guess I should get going."

She rose to her feet, her fingers fidgeting nervously in front of her. She paused for a moment, her eyes darting to Serena's, and then away again.

"So I'll… talk to you later then?" she said, a note of uncertainty in her voice.

"Yeah, sure," Serena replied evenly.

She watched as Blair gathered her things together, her brisk, purposeful movements not quite disguising the disheartened slump of her shoulders.

And Serena felt a stab of remorse shoot through her.

As upset as she'd been, she'd never stopped caring about Blair; she'd only pulled away to protect herself, to keep from getting hurt any further. But she derived no pleasure from seeing Blair unhappy, and she hated being the cause of it- especially given how hard Blair was obviously taking Chuck's departure.

"How about we have lunch sometime this week?" Serena offered at last, as Blair was opening the door.

Blair's face brightened visibly.

"That sounds good," she agreed with a hopeful nod.

"Okay, I'll give you a call then," Serena said.

"And I will… answer when you do," Blair replied somewhat awkwardly.

The two shared a tentative little smile before Blair slung her handbag over her shoulder and made her way out of the apartment.

Serena closed the door behind her with a soft click, and then flopped down to sit on the sofa, heaving a deep sigh. She felt tense, exhausted, and emotionally-drained… but she also felt an overwhelming sense of relief, like she'd just released every feeling she'd been bottling up inside for months.

For better or for worse, they'd finally had an honest conversation.

And maybe, just maybe, they could still salvage their friendship out of this mess.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

It was close to midnight when Chuck finally arrived at his suite with a small entourage of valets and porters and animal handlers in tow. After directing them to leave his luggage in the bedroom, he took a few minutes to explore his new home.

Located on the top floor of the Berkeley, it was every bit as opulent as promised; the furnishings were luxurious but tasteful, the bathrooms outfitted in Italian marble, the expansive windows offering a stunning view of Hyde Park.

He glanced out at the conservatory and spacious private roof terrace, which would provide plenty of space for Monkey to roam.

When he felt better, anyway, he thought with a slight grimace.

About halfway over the Atlantic, he'd made the unfortunate discovery that his dog apparently suffered from airsickness.

As a result, his flight crew was currently steam-cleaning the floor of his jet, and Monkey… well, he was still curled up in his crate, whining pitifully and refusing to come out.

"Come on, boy," Chuck coaxed him, without much success, before finally reaching in and giving a firm tug on his collar.

He led the unhappy animal to his dog bed, which had been set up in a corner of the master bedroom, and watched as he flopped down on it with a sad whimper.

"It's okay, you'll feel better tomorrow," he reassured him, giving a quick scratch behind the ears.

Monkey just stared up at him with big, forlorn eyes, as if he didn't understand why he was being tortured like this.

"You'll like it here, I promise," Chuck murmured. "… We both will."

He couldn't help but hear the lingering note of uncertainty in his own voice.

Weary from the long flight and his lack of sleep the night before, he washed up for bed and changed into a pair of silk pajamas. He laid out his clothes for tomorrow's meetings, checking to make sure his suit was still carefully pressed, shoes polished, tie and pocket square and cufflinks all expertly coordinated. He sent Lily a quick text to let her know he'd arrived safely. And finally, he unpacked his small carry-on bag, which contained all of his essentials.

Toiletries, phone charger, laptop. His lucky watch. The latest copy of Forbes. The Murikami novel he'd been (slowly) working his way through.

Reaching the bottom of the bag, he pulled out the last item inside.

He gazed at the framed picture for a moment, his eyes skimming over nineteen-year-old Blair's face, her smile, her hair blowing loose in the breeze. His own expression, caught in a rare moment of unguarded happiness.

It almost felt like he was looking at a stranger, he thought, studying his younger self with a pang of wistfulness.

He set the picture on his nightstand, and lingered by the bed for a moment, feeling strangely uneasy.

Like it was… too close.

Picking up the frame again, he strode over the far wall and placed it atop the dresser, angling it carefully towards the center of the room.

Then he made his way back to the bed, pulled back the covers, and climbed inside.

It took only moments before he'd slipped into a deep slumber, lulled to sleep by Monkey's soft snores and his own bone-weary exhaustion.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Blair wandered through Central Park, pausing to watch a group of mallards swim in leisurely circles around the pond. She tore off some bits of croissant and tossed them into the water, but the ducks didn't seem interested- they just kept paddling right along, quacking softly amongst themselves, while the bits of pastry grew waterlogged and eventually sank.

Maybe they'd already eaten, she thought to herself.

Or maybe they hated her too. Just like everybody else.

With slumping shoulders, she turned and trudged on through the park, not even noticing the colorful flowers or the crowds of people passing by; her mind was awhirl with memories and self-recriminations and "what ifs."

Lost in thought, and with no particular destination in mind, she was surprised to look up and find herself in front of the Empire again.

It made sense, actually, that her subconscious would lead her back here. It had been her home during the happiest period of her life.

She made her way through the lobby, smiling wanly at the doormen and receptionists as she passed. She remembered how excited she'd been when she hurried through here less than twenty-four hours ago- so happy and eager to reunite with Chuck, to set right everything that had gone wrong.

And now… she just felt completely lost, and alone.

She didn't have Chuck, or Serena- not really, anyway . She didn't even have Dan. And she no longer had her façade of contentedness, that warm cocoon of denial she'd wrapped herself in for the last few months. She'd tried to escape from everything in her life that scared her, everything that made her feel vulnerable and weak.

Now those fears were all she had left.

Blinking back the tears she could feel welling up in her eyes, she stepped into the elevator, swiped her keycard, and hit the "penthouse" button.

When she walked into the apartment, she knew instantly that the movers had been here and taken the rest of Chuck's things away. His personality, his charisma had always permeated every inch of this space, and now it just felt… empty.

Maybe coming up here hadn't been such a good idea after all, she thought glumly, and sniffled- catching just the faintest hint of Chuck's cologne lingering in the air.

Even that would be gone soon enough.

"Blair?"

The soft voice startled her, and she whipped around to see Nate walking out of his bedroom, his forehead creased in puzzlement.

"…Hi," she responded, wracking her brain to think of an excuse for her presence.

"Uh, Chuck's not here," he said, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms over his chest. "He left this morning."

"I know," she replied without thinking… then silently cursed, as she realized that "looking for Chuck" would've been a much more logical explanation than the truth.

"You do?" he sounded surprised.

She nodded.

He studied her with a confused expression, clearly expecting her to explain herself.

She opened her mouth, and then closed it. And then opened it again.

"I broke up with Dan," she said finally.

Nate raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to continue.

"Then I came over to tell Chuck I loved him and wanted to be with him, and we spent the night together, and then this morning he told me he couldn't be with me right now and he needs… some time."- The words all came out in a jumbled rush- "And then I went to see Serena to patch things up with her, and she said she needs some time too, and then I just wandered around for a while."

She paused to swallow back the lump in her throat.

"And then I ended up back here," she finished sadly.

She cast her eyes downwards. Realizing she was still carrying the bag of rejected cappuccinos and breakfast pastries, she felt her eyes well up with tears.

"Sounds like you've had a pretty busy day," Nate commented.

She nodded, punctuating it with a pitiful sniff.

"So am I, like, your only friend now?" he asked.

Blair looked up in surprise at the teasing note in his voice and saw unexpected warmth in his expression.

"I guess so," she replied with a tremulous smile.

Blinking the tears from her eyes and straightening her shoulders, she regarded him with an appraising look. "I suppose I could do worse, Archibald."

He snorted.

"Well, lucky for you, the rest of my afternoon is free," he tossed over his shoulder as he walked towards the living room.

"And you have nothing better to do than listen to me talk about my problems?" she asked skeptically, trailing after him.

"Eh." Nate shrugged with a self-deprecating smile. "I was just gonna get high and play Halo, so…"

Blair wrinkled her nose.

"What happened to mature, grown-up Nate?" she asked.

"Grownup Nate takes Sundays off," he replied succinctly, taking a seat on the sofa.

She sat down next to him, setting her belongings on the coffee table, and the two sat in awkward silence for a moment.

"So, do you want to…" Nate trailed off, miming a puffing motion with his fingers.

"Ugh, no." She cringed in exaggerated distaste. "Seriously?"

"Hey, I just thought it might make you feel better," he said, chuckling at her reaction. "So what's in the bag?"

He gestured towards the coffee table.

"Just some… cappuccinos." She gave a melancholy sigh. "Pretty sure they're cold by now though."

"Oh, well… I can make you a cappuccino, if you want," he offered.

Before she had a chance to reply, he'd already gotten to his feet and made his way towards the kitchen.

"We got this espresso machine a few months ago, it makes… really good coffee…" he called out. "Much better than, uh… the Starbucks downstairs…"

Blair sat back on the sofa, her eyes catching on the Girl Scout painting on the opposing wall.

She wondered why he hadn't taken it with him. It had always been one of his favorites.

Her thoughts were interrupted, however, by some rattling sounds coming from the kitchen.

A pause, and then some more rattling.

And then a loud _crash_.

Then an extended silence, followed by a muted expletive.

"Actually, you know, the Starbucks is pretty good." Nate reappeared in the doorway, his hand holding some sort of lever that looked like it used to be attached to something else. "I can just run down and-"

"It's fine Nate, I'm not really that thirsty," she interrupted him.

"Okay." He sat back down next to her on the sofa, studying her expression with a look of bemusement. "So… do you want to talk, or…"

She took a deep breath, staring down at her fingers twisted together in her lap.

"I just don't understand how everything got so messed up," she said with a regretful shake of her head.

"People make mistakes, Blair. Even you," he said, the last two words infused with a hint of mirth. "It's not the end of the world."

"Nate, I'm a twenty-one-year-old _divorcée_," she replied despairingly. "I went from having my picture in the society pages to…having sleazy tabloid articles written about how I 'traded in the Prince of Monaco for a greasy Brooklyn hipster with a glorified _mullet_.'"

"It even said…" she went on, "that 'his tragic hairstyling choices appeared to be _contagious_.'"

She smoothed a hand over her glossy curls, her eyes narrowing in indignation as she recalled the most offensive part of the article.

"And… that's what you're upset about?" Nate asked dubiously.

"No," she admitted. "I just…"

She paused, struggling to find the words to explain herself.

"I thought… I was making the right decision. The _smart_ decision," she said quietly. "I thought I was doing what I had to do to be happy. And somehow I ended up… hurting everyone I care about.

"And now I don't know… if my friendship with Serena is ever going to be the same again," she said, finally voicing the fear that had been plaguing her ever since she'd left her former best friend's apartment.

Nate nodded, eying her with understanding.

"We've all forgiven each other for a lot of things, Blair," he pointed out. "If your friendship with Serena could survive… well, me…" He gave her a crooked grin. "I'm sure you'll get past this."

"But we're not sixteen anymore, Nate," she said remorsefully. "We're supposed to know better. We're not supposed to hurt each other like this."

"So…_ don't_, anymore," he replied in an obvious tone.

Oh, Nate, she thought, with a mix of fondness and exasperation. Things really were that simple inside that pretty head of his.

"I don't plan to," she replied with a sigh. "I'm just afraid… the damage is already done. I mean..."

She closed her eyes for a moment, mulling over some of the hypothetical situations that had been swirling through her head all afternoon.

"If Serena had done what I did… with Chuck…" She paused. "I would… never have forgiven her."

A little furrow appeared between Nate's eyebrows as he thought this over.

"I'm sure eventually you would have-" he began.

"No." She shook her head resolutely.

Even considering that unlikely scenario had produced a tight ball of rage in her chest. Nate might have a rather charitable view of her capacity for forgiveness, based on his own experience with it, but she knew better.

She would've tackled Serena to the floor and ripped her shiny blonde hair out by the roots.

And then she would've rendered Chuck physically unable to procreate, probably with the heel of her stiletto.

"I wouldn't have forgiven him either," she went on. "In fact, if he… if he told me he wasn't in love with me anymore, and chose another girl…"

That scenario had been even harder to imagine, because it seemed almost outside of the realm of possibility. She'd always known she was Chuck's first choice; he'd only turned to other women for consolation when he couldn't have her. Ever since they'd fallen in love, all of their breakups and near-misses had either been her decision, or the result of Chuck's misguided belief that she was better off without him.

And the thought of Chuck rejecting her- not as an act of personal sacrifice, but because he'd decided he'd rather to be with someone else instead- had almost brought Blair to tears.

And the thought of him _marrying_ someone else…

That hurt so much she could hardly bear it.

"Blair?" Nate's voice shook her from her reverie, and she looked up to find him quietly observing her.

"What if…" She swallowed. "What if I've really lost them?"

"You haven't," Nate replied in a definitive tone.

She nodded, wishing she shared his certainty.

"I finally figured out exactly what I want," she said forlornly. "I'm just afraid that… now it's too late."

"It's not too late. You just have to be patient, that's all." He shrugged. "Maybe spend some time focusing on the other things you want?"

"Other things?" she echoed, her brow furrowing in confusion.

"Yeah, like…. in general?" he clarified.

She just stared at him, puzzled.

"Surely you want more out of life than… Chuck to be your boyfriend and Serena to be your best friend?" Nate raised his eyebrows at her.

"… Of course I do," she said, after a brief hesitation.

"Like what?" he prompted, looking at her expectantly.

"Well…"

She paused, flustered by the fact that she couldn't readily answer his question.

What _did_ she want out of life?

She'd wanted to be successful. Powerful. Respected. To have people look up to her.

That was all she'd ever really wanted.

The problem was, she had no idea how to achieve it.

Everything she'd tried so far- excelling academically, ruling socially, perfecting herself physically- had been in pursuit of those vague, nebulous goals.

And all of her attempts had failed.

"I… I don't know," she finally admitted.

Nate studied her quizzically.

"The Blair Waldorf I remember always knew exactly what she wanted," he pointed out.

"Yeah." She gave him a poignant little smile. "Turns out, she thought she knew a lot more than she did."

"Well…" His brow furrowed in thought. "Have you registered for fall classes yet?"

Blair shook her head.

She was still a student at a prestigious Ivy League university... but she was on an extended leave of absence, and hadn't even declared a major yet.

Not exactly how she'd envisioned her college career three years ago.

"I registered for a couple of marketing classes," Nate commented. "I think I can make it work with my schedule at the Spectator, if I hire two more employees."

Blair raised her eyebrows, impressed despite herself.

"Not bad, Archibald," she remarked with an affectionate smile.

"You know, I thought about marketing," she went on, tilting her head to the side thoughtfully. "And maybe finance too. Since they'll be useful in pretty much any field."

"Maybe we'll have class together," Nate said playfully. "Just like old times."

"And there's a class on modern feminist theory that sounded interesting…" she mused.

"Yeah, you're on your own there," he replied, his expression crinkling with distaste, and she laughed.

"I guess I need to figure out something to do for the summer," she realized suddenly, her expression falling as she felt the familiar weight of stress start to settle on her shoulders. "I was going to travel with Dan, but now I'm just staying in New York, so… so I'd better get an internship, or something? But all the good ones got filled months ago, and I don't even know what I want to do, and-"

"Hey, hey," Nate interrupted, obviously recognizing the signs of an impending Blair Waldorf meltdown. "You don't have to figure everything out right this minute."

Blair nodded, her face still tense with worry.

"You've had a stressful day, why don't you just sleep on it and see how you feel in the morning?" he proposed.

"Okay," she murmured, trying to force her expression into something resembling calm.

"And in the meantime… I think you need to relax and de-stress," Nate observed.

She nodded and looked at him expectantly.

"What do you suggest?"

"Well…" Nate pondered the question for a moment.

And then mimed a puffing motion again, looking at her with amusement sparkling in his eyes.

"Ugh, _really_?" She rolled her eyes and shook her head, sighing disparagingly.

"Well… I dunno, what do you usually do to de-stress?" he asked with a perplexed shrug.

She opened her mouth to reply and then closed it again, her cheeks tinting pink.

Because suddenly all that came to mind was one of Chuck's "special massages".

Which was inevitably followed by a good, hard-

"Okay, well, besides that." Nate cut her off her train of thought, clearly having deciphered her expression. "Pretty sure I… overheard that a few times," he added, grimacing in distaste.

She shrugged, unrepentant.

"Well… we could watch a movie," she suggested. "I even brought one with me!"

She leaned forward and pulled a well-worn copy of _Breakfast at Tiffany's_ out of her bag, and then turned to Nate with a hopeful smile.

He gave a deep, long-suffering sigh.

"I guess, if you're not even going to _consider_ my suggestion… we could do that," he conceded, and was immediately rewarded with a grin.

She handed him the DVD and kicked off her shoes, tucking her feet up underneath her and settling back into the sofa. As the familiar opening credits rolled across the screen, she exhaled a quiet sigh of contentment.

It was nice knowing how everything was going to turn out, she thought.

Even if it was only for a couple hours.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

**A/N:** Well, hopefully the lack of CB didn't make this a giant letdown (they'll be interacting more in subsequent chapters, I promise). This story is going to end up longer than the 8 chapters I originally planned, I think, because there's still a lot to resolve here. And as always, I appreciate your thoughts/opinions/predictions on how that should be accomplished.

(Just to clarify, since a few of you already asked- there will be nothing romantic between Nate and Blair in this story.)

Thanks to Terrabeth for taking the time to beta, even when she has much more important things to be doing :) And thanks to my reviewers, your kind words (and even the not so kind ones, haha) always inspire me to keep going: _bonafide11, Trosev, pty, faye29, Meg, SoraNoOjiSama, Stella296, 2xlivegonzo, livelybass, Lyla, freeatlastCB, Annerl, LowerCase32, flipped, MelanieChambers104, Ladynet, Infinitywr, wrighthangal, Jane, loopingread, Krazy4Spike, coleyoo, jj, Eternally Romantic, anon, 88Mary88, bfan, Ican'tbeMewithoutYou, olimgossip, Izzie, natyroganlover, Anna, Kathrynm37, chairluver, Adriana, Lexie, in x disarray, tiny, BambiRosie, hmm, MS104, Iz, SevenDevils, likeitrough, Questacious, ShaunaDoyleXo, annablake, Mademoiselle Bass, Temp02, love sold in the evening, Whatevergirl1985, louboutinlove, Cara, Xoxo, FrozenandYetNot, LeftWriter224, K, Curious Blonde, TheKillerDunja123, A, Aria, jojo.4ever, Melanie and thebelleoftheball._

This space would usually be reserved for some sort of show-related rant about the epic fail that is Dan and Blair's relationship, but the internets were so full of CB goodness today, I'm too busy farting rainbows and unicorns to get worked up about anything. Check out the savechuckandblair tumblr if you have no idea what I'm talking about. Also, I have a tumblr of my own- under maribells- so if you have show-related questions, or really anything you want answered, just leave me an ask!


	7. Chapter 7

.

**Chapter 7**

Blair awoke Monday morning with a renewed sense of determination. Today, she decided, was the day she would finally start getting her life back on track.

So what if she was currently 0 for 2 on her list of life goals? That just meant she could skip directly to item number three: get to work on her career.

And she'd gotten up especially early, so she could catch her mother at breakfast and get started right away.

"Good morning," Blair chirped, sliding into a chair across the table from Eleanor.

Her mother glanced up to regard her over the top of her glasses.

"You're up early, dear," she commented, before returning her attention to the Times.

Blair frowned a little at her mother's tone- Eleanor had obviously noticed her recently developed habit of sleeping in till noon. But when the only item on her daily agenda had been "dinner and a movie with Dan," she hadn't exactly felt inspired to leap out of bed in the morning.

"I wanted to talk to you about something," she explained, giving her mother her most charming smile.

Eleanor eyed her with a mix of curiosity and skepticism.

"I was wondering if…" Blair took a deep breath. "If you might have an internship position available at Waldorf Designs? Just for the summer."

"For you?" Eleanor looked taken aback, and Blair's carefully built-up confidence plummeted.

"Well, I know I don't have a lot of experience, but I learned a lot at my internship last year, and I'm a… very hard worker-" she began.

"I know that, dear, I'm just… surprised you want to work for me, that's all. You haven't shown any interest in Waldorf Designs in _years_." Eleanor took a sip of her latte. "Are you sure this is what you want to do?" she asked bluntly.

Blair paused a moment, glancing down at the table and then back up at her mother.

"No," she finally admitted. "I have no idea what I want to do. But I don't know how to figure it out without… trying things first."

Eleanor nodded pensively.

"Well…" She drummed her fingers along the side of her cup. "We're shooting the fall line for print ads this month, as well as three- possibly four- magazine spreads, and we're woefully behind schedule for Fashion Week, so… there's plenty of work to be done…"

Blair sat up a little in her seat, biting her lip in anticipation.

"I suppose I could find you something," her mother concluded.

"You won't regret it, I promise," Blair assured, her face visibly brightening.

"I'd better not," Eleanor replied with feigned severity, unable to prevent a little smile of her own.

Blair happily tucked into her croissant, and the two ate their breakfast in silence for a moment.

"What happened to spending the summer in Europe with… Dan Humphrey?" Eleanor asked at last, her gaze fixed shrewdly on her daughter's reaction.

There was something amusing about the way her mother always referred to him by his full name, Blair reflected- as if they weren't quite familiar enough to be on a first-name basis.

"We, uh… aren't together anymore," she replied in a neutral tone. "We decided that we're… better off just being friends."

"Mmm." Eleanor looked neither surprised nor disappointed by this turn of events.

She took another sip of her coffee, still studying her daughter's expression.

"So no trips abroad this summer?" she asked shrewdly. "To London, perhaps?"

Blair felt the color rise in her cheeks.

"Perhaps," she murmured, averting her eyes from her mother's overly-perceptive gaze.

Eleanor nodded, the slightest hint of a smile quirking the corners of her mouth, before she pushed her chair back and stood up.

"Well, you'd better hurry up and get dressed," she said, eyeing Blair's pajamas, and smoothed one hand down the front of her cashmere cardigan.

Blair looked up at her with a questioning lilt of her eyebrows

"It's almost eight," she pointed out. "You don't want to be late for your first day of work, do you?"

With that, Eleanor turned and walked towards the foyer- leaving Blair blinking in surprise before she gulped down the last of her coffee and hurried up to her bedroom to change.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Blair quickly discovered that climbing to the top of the food chain at Eleanor Waldorf Designs was easier said than done. Since the other interns had all started several weeks ago, they'd already settled into a hierarchy, and the only slot remaining was at the very bottom. Furthermore, they all clearly viewed her as the unqualified beneficiary of her mother's nepotism. Blair soon realized she'd have to work twice as hard as everyone else just to be taken seriously, let alone admired.

So she did exactly that. After she'd finished her own job duties, she volunteered for more, and she did everything without a word of complaint- only an occasional eyeroll when no one was looking. It was tedious work- lots of fetching and sorting and organizing- but it gave her more of a sense of accomplishment than she'd felt in months.

But by Friday morning, the pointed looks and snide comments from the other interns were definitely starting to wear on her. It was a relief to escape for an hour to have lunch with Serena.

"I just wish they'd give me a chance," Blair complained, staring down at her half-eaten Cobb salad. "I feel like… instead of trying to help me, they're just waiting for me to screw up."

"I'm sure it'll get better," Serena assured her. "They just need some time to realize you're really serious about this, that's all."

"I hope so," Blair sighed, prodding aside a chunk of bacon with her fork to spear a slice of tomato.

"Oh, but Laurel- she's my boss- asked me to help out with the _Elle_ shoot this Saturday," she added in a more upbeat tone. "Which sounds amazing- I mean, remember all those shoots we used to go to together? We always had so much fun."

"Yeah, those were fun," Serena replied with a wistful little smile.

"Of course, you always fit into the sample sizes much better than I did," Blair added in a flattering tone.

A little wrinkle appeared between Serena's eyebrows.

"Well, I don't know about that," she said uncomfortably, shrugging off the intended compliment.

They lapsed into silence, both girls returning to their food to try and disguise the awkwardness.

"So… how are your classes going?" Blair asked finally.

"Oh, great," Serena said through a mouthful of panini, her expression brightening. "My film class has just been introductory stuff so far, but tonight we're going to our first screening - Buster Keaton's _Sherlock, Jr_. And my creative writing professor really liked the idea I came up with for my first short story."

She took another bite, looking thoughtful as she chewed.

"It just feels like I'm finally doing something I'm really excited about, you know?" she explained.

"That's great," Blair said with an encouraging smile. "You know, I never realized you were that into cinema," she added, before taking a sip of her iced tea. "There's a great independent film festival in Brooklyn you should check out, I went last year with…"

She faltered, realizing too late where her sentence was heading.

Serena said nothing for a moment, just wiped her napkin around the edges of her mouth.

"You don't have to pretend like Dan doesn't exist, Blair," she said finally. "We're starting over, remember? Not acting like nothing ever happened."

Blair nodded ruefully.

"Maybe you and I could go together this year?" she suggested in a hopeful voice. "I think it's coming up pretty soon."

"Maybe," Serena replied, appearing to actually consider the idea.

Blair smiled as she fluffed through her salad with her fork. _To starting over, _she thought, lifting a bacon-laden bite to her mouth.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Blair's optimism was soon rewarded. As soon as she returned to the office, Laurel, who was notoriously stingy with compliments, openly praised her for securing an alternate venue for the Fashion Week wrap party. Then one of the other interns approached her, albeit awkwardly, to mention that they were going out for drinks after work.

Startled by the invitation, Blair had practically beamed in response.

And several hours later, she was sitting in an upscale bar in Midtown, surrounded by a clique of gorgeous, fashionable girls gossiping about their coworkers. It was like she'd finally returned to her natural habitat, she mused happily.

"I just don't get it." Deirdre shook her head mournfully, stirring the olive around in her martini. "I really thought there was a spark there, but he hasn't picked up on any of the hints I've been dropping."

"Hints? More like anvils," scoffed Phoebe, with a toss of her fiery red hair.

"Well, she had a good reason to think he liked her!" Alison chimed in defensively. "He talked to her for like two hours at that welcome reception."

"Well, I saw him chatting up one of the admins by the break room yesterday." Deirdre sighed mournfully. "I guess he just lost interest."

Blair furrowed her brow in confusion.

"Wait, are you talking about Brandon Meyers?" she interjected.

The girls looked up at her in surprise, responding with a flurry of nods.

"Yeah… he's gay," she pointed out.

Three pairs of eyes widened at her in disbelief.

"He is not…" Deirdre trailed off. "Wait, how do you know he's gay?"

"…Because he has sex with men," Blair replied dryly, and Phoebe snorted with laughter.

Seeing Deirdre's crestfallen expression, she felt a pang of sympathy- clearly the girl had spent way too long in the fashion industry if her radar was that badly calibrated.

"I've known him for a long time," Blair explained further. "He dated… a friend of a friend."

She decided 'friend of a friend' sounded much more appropriate than 'my dad's boyfriend'.

"Ugh, I am _never_ going to meet anyone," Deirdre said, shaking her head despondently. She took a long swallow of her drink.

"Well…" Blair hesitated.

It might be a bit soon to pimp out Dan just to curry favor with her coworkers, but she had no qualms about throwing Nate in their direction. Maybe he'd even be willing to bring along some of his lacrosse teammates.

"I know some cute single guys. I could introduce you," she offered.

"Really?" Allison perked up. The two girls eyed Blair with cautious interest.

"Yeah, sure." Blair shrugged. "Maybe I could invite them to happy hour sometime?"

Among the excited nods of the others, Phoebe regarded Blair with skepticism.

"What's wrong with them?" she asked pointedly, ignoring Allison's attempts to shush her.

"Wrong with them?" Blair echoed.

"Why aren't you dating them?" she clarified. "You're single, right?"

Blair faltered, at a momentary loss for words.

The obvious answer- "because I already did"- wouldn't be much of a selling point.

And the truth was, she didn't really consider herself to be single. Technically, she was free to date whomever she wanted, but she didn't want to date anyone except Chuck. And she wouldn't even consider risking a future relationship with him for the sake of some… momentary distraction.

"It's… complicated," she said finally. "I'm not really… looking to date anyone right now."

Phoebe nodded, her eyes studying Blair shrewdly.

"Yeah, I just got out of a complicated relationship myself," she commented. "I came home one day to find my boyfriend in bed with the neighbor's dog walker."

Blair winced in empathy.

"That uncomplicated things in a hurry," Phoebe added with a self-deprecating grin.

"My last boyfriend dumped me by changing his Facebook status," Allison added. "To 'in a relationship' with someone else."

The group of girls groaned in commiseration.

"I dated a guy in high school who, it turned out…" Blair paused for effect. "Was sleeping with his own stepmother."

She laughed at the resounding chorus of "ew"s.

"Alright, you win," Phoebe conceded, shaking her head in amusement. "Another drink?" she offered, gesturing to Blair's empty glass.

"Sure," Blair said, pleased that they seemed to be warming up to her. "Just tonic and lime," she clarified.

"You don't drink?" Phoebe asked curiously, leaning forward to get the bartender's attention.

"Oh, I do, I just have to get up super early for that photo shoot tomorrow," Blair explained. "And my mother can detect a hangover from a mile away."

Phoebe nodded.

"Your mom's a real ball-buster," she observed. "I'm honestly a little terrified of her."

The other girls murmured in agreement.

"You guys should've seen her a few years ago, before she married Cyrus," Blair said with a wry laugh. "This is Eleanor being mellow, trust me."

Retrieving their drinks, Phoebe handed them out to the others, and raised her glass.

"Cheers!" she declared with a smile, and the four girls clinked their glasses together.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Chuck's first week in London was a blur of meetings, conference calls, and networking events. Still, he carved out enough time on his schedule to walk Monkey once in the morning and once in the afternoon, and their peaceful, relaxing excursions around Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens quickly became his favorite daily activity.

During their Saturday afternoon walk, he was momentarily distracted by his cell phone and took his eyes off of Monkey for a few seconds… only to look up and find him tangled up in some sort of butt-sniffing showdown with a yappy little Cocker Spaniel.

Chuck helped separate the two animals and apologized profusely to the other dog's owner, a friendly blonde girl named Chloe. She asked about his accent, and, after he admitted that he was new in town, invited him to join her and her friends at a nearby pub that evening. It was an act of overt friendliness that would never have happened in Manhattan in a million years.

That was how he found himself sandwiched into a booth at the Churchill Arms, surrounded by a boisterous group of twenty-somethings and staring bemusedly at a pint of amber liquid someone had placed in front of him.

"Chiswick." A stocky guy seated across from him- George, maybe?- gestured towards the glass. "Best real ale in all of London."

Chuck nodded and lifted it to his lips for a tentative sip.

And nearly spit it back out when he tasted the flat, tepid beverage. Admittedly, it'd been years since he'd had a beer, but he definitely didn't remember it tasting like that.

"Mm," he said noncommittally, trying to mask his reaction.

George regarded him with amusement.

"Probably a bit warmer than you're used to," he commented. "It lets you get the full flavor. Chilling it just deadens your taste buds."

Well, the same was said by true Scotch aficionados, so… he supposed he had to respect that.

Smiling wryly, Chuck raised the pint and took another swallow, deciding that it tasted slightly less objectionable the second time around.

"Next round's on me," he offered, cueing a chorus of cheers.

As well as a hearty slap on the back from the gentleman to his left.

The close-knit group seemed to welcome him without hesitation- only a raised eyebrow or two at his Savile Row suit, which was noticeably out of place among the casually-dressed patrons. He'd introduced himself by first name only, mentioning vaguely that he "worked in real estate," but they'd seemed unperturbed by his evasiveness. They'd peppered him with questions about New York City and what it was like to live there, sharing some American travel experiences of their own and offering him plenty of unsolicited advice about living in London. Eventually, though, focus shifted away from him, the conversation returning to Premier League soccer and other topics that he couldn't really contribute to.

So Chuck relaxed against the back of the booth, his fingers circled loosely around the base of his glass, just listening. Every now and then he'd offer an opinion or question, but mostly he was content to quietly observe.

It felt nice, he decided, being surrounded by people who didn't have any pre-conceived ideas or expectations of him. People who were just… easy to be around.

Not that he was deliberately trying to remain anonymous- he knew that would be impossible.

But even an hour or two of just being Chuck, a twenty-one-year-old American with a penchant for overdressing and a woeful ignorance of beer, felt… liberating.

"What do you say, Chuck?" Chloe's voice interrupted his musing.

He glanced up with a furrowed brow to find several sets of eyes on him.

"Football in the park tomorrow?" she clarified, looking at him expectantly. "We meet on Sundays at half-ten."

"… Sure," Chuck agreed, after only a slight hesitation. "Sounds fun."

He wasn't generally a fan of embarrassing himself in public- and since he hadn't so much as touched a soccer ball since gym class at St. Jude's, that was undoubtedly what this outing would entail- but apparently he was the sort of person who tried new things these days.

Approving the idea with a little nod, he took another swallow of his beer.

Still flat, and warm, and… yeasty. Not terrible, though.

But "next round" was going to be a round of Scotch, just the same, he thought with a smirk.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

The sound of his phone vibrating across the coffee table made Chuck sit up on the sofa, wincing at the soreness in his hamstrings as he did so. Shifting the ice pack on his cheek off to one side, he grabbed the phone and held it up to identify the caller.

And felt his heart skip a beat when he saw Blair's name on the screen.

Clearing his throat, he pressed "accept."

"Hello?" he said tentatively.

"Hey," Blair greeted him.

"Hey," he echoed back.

An awkward pause followed.

"Chuck?"

"Yeah, I'm here," he replied. "… How are you?"

"I'm good," she said brightly. "I was just wondering… how you were settling in over there."

"Pretty well, actually," he replied with a tinge of pride. "Keeping busy with work. The project's still ahead of schedule, we haven't run into any major snafus so far."

"That's great news," she enthused. "And your new apartment?"

"Well, it does feel a little empty without a certain someone camped out on the sofa playing video games in his underwear," he responded wryly.

The laughter that rang out across the line produced an odd fluttering feeling in his stomach. It was amazing, after all these years, how just the sound of her voice could affect him this much.

"Yeah, I think Nate misses you too," she commented, her voice infused with humor. "I visited him the other day, and he seems in desperate need of a smoking buddy."

"A role I'm guessing you were unwilling to fill?"

Blair snorted. "Not for lack of effort on his part," she replied. "I think he was going to try and trick me with some brownies, but he almost set the kitchen on fire making them."

"Yeah, Nate has difficulty with… ovens," Chuck said with a little laugh.

There was a pause, and he could hear her clear her throat.

"So… I got a job," she announced eagerly.

"Really? That's great."

"Yeah, I'm working for my mom's company, I started on Monday. It's just an internship, so… nothing super glamorous, but I got to help out with a magazine shoot yesterday and the director actually asked my opinion on some of the styling…"

Chuck propped himself up on the sofa arm and leaned back against the cushions as Blair continued to chatter about her new job, smiling at how excited she sounded.

"Sounds great," he said when he finally got a word in edgewise. "You'll be running that division in no time."

"Well, the other interns… took a while to warm up to me," Blair admitted. "You know, because I got the position through my mom…"

"Yeah," he murmured. "I can relate."

Even now, three and a half years after his father's death, he encountered people on a daily basis who assumed he was just a rich, entitled trust fund brat with no business acumen whatsoever.

Fortunately, being underestimated in the boardroom usually worked out to his advantage.

"Anyway, it turns out they're all desperately man-hungry," Blair said in a crafty sort of way. "So I figure I'll throw them a bone- so to speak- by introducing them to Nate."

"You know, Nate's never going to meet a nice girl if you keep pimping him out like this," Chuck remarked drolly.

Blair scoffed. "Please. If he had any interest in meeting a nice girl, he wouldn't be banging cougars like it's a full-time job. I'm just putting his… talents to use, that's all."

"Fair enough," Chuck conceded with a grin.

He shifted his position, trying to keep the ice pack pressed firmly against his cheekbone- but in the process, his elbow slipped off the sofa arm and the heel of his palm jabbed directly into the bruised flesh.

"Ow, fuck," he muttered.

"What's wrong?" Blair's voice was tinged with concern.

"Nothing, I just… I got hit in the face with a soccer ball, that's all."

"What? How?" she asked, confused.

"I was… playing soccer," he replied in an obvious tone.

"Soccer?" she echoed disbelievingly.

"Okay, it's not _that_ hard to believe."

"I've just… never known you to play soccer, that's all," she replied, still sounding skeptical.

"Well, there may still be a thing or two you don't know about me," Chuck said saucily.

He maneuvered himself sideways so he could prop his legs up onto the sofa, feeling a sharp twinge in his calf muscles as he did so.

"I saved a goal," he offered.

"That's… great."

"By accident."

"Well, still…"

"With my face."

He heard a snort of laughter across the line.

"No permanent damage, I hope," she said teasingly. "I'm rather fond of your face."

"Nothing an ice pack and a couple glasses of Scotch won't fix," he replied. "They invited me back next week, but I think it was more out of pity than anything else," he added in a wry tone.

"Well, I'm glad you're making some friends over there," she said warmly.

They were both quiet for a moment.

He heard her inhale, as if about to speak- and then hesitate.

"So is it… okay that I called you?" she finally asked, a note of uncertainty in her voice.

"Of course it is," he murmured, his brow furrowing in puzzlement. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"I just… I know you said you wanted space, so…" she trailed off.

"I also said we were friends," he reminded her. "And friends… talk to each other, right?"

"Right," she agreed softly. "Friends."

Silence stretched out between them, growing heavy with thoughts unspoken.

They both knew that the word was wholly inadequate to describe how they felt about each other. There wasn't even a word for that, as far as Chuck was concerned.

Blair wasn't a friend to him. She was… _everything_ to him.

But that was exactly the problem, he reminded himself. He'd become so consumed by his feelings for her, so focused on her happiness at the expense of his own, that he'd lost himself in the process. And he couldn't live his life so dependent on Blair's love that he felt like half a person without her.

That was why they needed this separation so badly, even though it was taking every ounce of self-restraint he possessed to keep their conversation platonic. To not just tell her he loved her and missed her and couldn't stand them being apart a moment longer.

It was the same thing he had to remind himself of every morning, so he wouldn't get on the next flight back to New York.

There was simply too much at stake to rush back together before they were ready.

"Well, I should probably get to bed," Blair said softly.

"Yeah," he murmured in agreement. "It was good talking to you, Blair."

"Same to you, Bass," she replied, a teasing lilt to her voice.

Long after they'd said their goodbyes and hung up, he could still feel a little smile lingering around the corners of his mouth.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

The following Saturday, Blair arrived at her brunch date in high spirits. There was a visible spring in her step as she approached the table by the window where Serena was waiting.

"Hey!" she greeted her friend as she slid into the opposite seat. "Did you already order for me?"

"Yep, I got your text," Serena replied, looking Blair up and down. "Someone's awfully chipper today," she observed, amused.

Blair shrugged.

"Just had a good week, that's all," she replied cheerfully. "And I am _starving_," she added, grabbing a muffin from the bread basket and taking a big bite.

"You must be, if you're eating carbs," Serena remarked.

She studied her friend for a moment.

"Things are better at work?" she guessed.

"_Much_ better, now that my coworkers aren't trying to ruin my life anymore," Blair replied, allowing herself a victorious little smile. "You were totally right, they just needed time to get to know me, that's all."

The other interns still had moments when they got a little… territorial, especially when it came to the more glamorous assignments. But for the most part, her work environment had improved tremendously. She'd found that as long as she stayed on Phoebe's good side, the rest of the interns just fell into line.

Come to think of it, it was an awful lot like high school.

"That's great, Blair," Serena said warmly.

"And, as it turns out, the fashion industry isn't exactly teeming with available heterosexual males," Blair went on in an amused voice. "So I offered to introduce them to some single guys I know, and they practically mobbed me."

"What single guys do you know?" Serena's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Well, Nate." Blair shrugged. "Nate's Columbia friends. And Dan… although I don't think he's really their type," she added dismissively.

"Yeah… probably not," Serena commented in an odd tone.

Blair glanced up at her, wondering if she'd detected a note of resentment- but Serena's expression remained amiable.

Their waitress stopped by to drop off their food, and Blair tucked into her eggs Benedict with a happy little "mmm." Totally worth the calories, she decided, as she licked a dribble of bright, buttery hollandaise sauce off the tines of her fork.

The two girls ate in silence for a few moments, before Blair's eyes returned to study her friend's face again.

"What about you?" she asked curiously. "Any updates on your love life?"

Serena shook her head.

"Oh, well…" Blair's brow furrowed for a second. "I'm sure you'll meet someone soon. I mean, you have a whole new school full of boys at your disposal," she added encouragingly.

Even if they were… NYU boys, she thought with an internal shudder.

"I'm not really looking for a relationship right now," Serena replied, intensely focused on her French toast. "I figure I should just work on me for a while, you know?"

Blair nodded in agreement.

"They say as soon as you stop looking, that's when you find someone," she declared with a sage nod.

"Yeah, I'm really just not interested in dating anyone right now," Serena responded, a sharper edge to her voice. "It's not some ploy to accidentally stumble into a relationship."

"Right," Blair murmured, taken aback.

She took another bite of her eggs, studying Serena out of the corner of her eye and contemplating other, less touchy conversational topics.

"So... I talked to Chuck his morning," she began, unable to prevent the little flip-flop of her stomach that accompanied her words.

Serena raised her eyebrows.

"You guys are staying in touch?" she asked, sounding surprised.

"Well, we just talked last weekend, and then we chatted again this morning," she explained in an airy tone.

She already knew her attempt to sound nonchalant was a dismal failure- she could feel the flush in her cheeks, and she couldn't keep a giddy smile off her face.

"We were just, you know… catching up," she went on, gesturing with her fork. "He's doing really well. The project's still ahead of schedule, and he's negotiating a deal to upgrade the hotel's computer systems that should save them, like, hundreds of thousands of dollars."

"Yeah, he mentioned the software upgrade last time I talked to him," Serena commented, dipping a chuck of French toast into a little ramekin of maple syrup.

Blair paused, her fork poised in the air halfway to her mouth.

"When did you talk to Chuck?" The words flew out of her mouth before she could prevent them.

"Oh, um..." Serena pursed her lips in contemplation. "He called me on Monday, I think." She returned to her attention to her food before Blair managed to recover.

There was absolutely no reason for her to be upset, Blair told herself. So Chuck called Serena. Just to chat. And he simply hadn't thought to mention that he'd been in contact with Blair.

"Well, the better the project goes, the sooner he can come home, so…" Blair trailed off, feeling her optimism start to return. "I'm hoping he'll be back in time for the White Party," she added in an upbeat tone. "I saw this suit in the Ralph Lauren summer collection that would just look amazing on him…"

She let her imagination wander for a moment, picturing herself on Chuck's arm, the two of them flawlessly coordinated- and, of course, obviously, madly in love. They'd make the rounds at the party, socializing and getting photographed for Page Six, before sneaking off for a steamy little rendezvous in the pool house.

"I already have the perfect Marc Jacobs picked out for myself," she added dreamily.

"It'd be great if he came back that soon." Serena's voice interrupted her daydreaming. "But I'm glad he's having such a good time over there... meeting new people and everything. I think it's good for him."

"Yeah, he mentioned he'd made some friends," Blair replied, feeling her cheerful expression slip just slightly.

She had to admit, even though she wanted Chuck to succeed, there was a tiny part of her- okay, maybe a not-so-tiny part- that wished he wasn't enjoying himself so much.

Good Blair- _mature_ Blair- was happy for him. Thrilled, even.

But selfish, immature, jealous Blair just wanted him to miss her. To need her. To be so lonely and miserable without her that he would rush back to New York and straight into her arms.

"Yeah, Chloe sounds really cool, doesn't she?" Serena said casually, and took another bite.

Blair's eyes flashed upwards to find Serena innocently looking back at her, chewing on her French toast.

_Chloe? Who the fuck is Chloe?_

"Didn't he tell you that hilarious story about how they met?" Serena chortled, seemingly in disbelief. "They were walking their dogs at the park, and Monkey tried to hump Chloe's dog."

"Huh," Blair said tonelessly.

"They do say pets take after their owners," Serena added in amusement, before taking a sip of her iced coffee.

Blair stared down at her half-empty plate with a heavy feeling of dread in her stomach.

She knew that she and Chuck weren't officially in a relationship, and were technically free to date other people, but… he'd said that meeting someone else was the last thing on his mind right now. She'd thought…she'd thought he was waiting for her. Just like she was waiting for him.

But now it seemed like he was just moving on with his life, and trying to spare her feelings by keeping her in the dark.

All of her daydreaming seemed so silly and naïve now, she thought, swallowing back the lump in her throat.

"I… I'm sorry, I just remembered I have to run an errand for my mom," she said to Serena in a faltering voice, hastily gathering her things together. "I'll… call you later? Maybe we can have lunch again next week."

With one last strained smile, she turned and quickly made her way out of the restaurant, feeling Serena's gaze on her back as she left.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Serena made her way down Park Avenue later that evening, just as the last rays of sunlight disappeared behind the towering Manhattan skyline. It was the first time she'd approached the Waldorf penthouse in almost four months.

She'd been so determined to leave the past in the past, to make an honest effort to rebuild her friendship with Blair. But somehow, just a few ill-advised comments from her former best friend had transformed Serena from a mature and reasonable person into a passive aggressive bitch in about thirty seconds flat. First, there was the nauseating suggestion that she was considering setting Dan up with one of her coworkers. Then came her patronizing "don't worry, you'll find someone"- after she'd taken the only 'someone' Serena had ever really wanted.

She honestly hadn't been able to stop herself from taking a swipe back.

And even though she'd exaggerated wildly - Chuck had barely even mentioned Chloe- Serena had taken a certain mean satisfaction in how much she'd managed to upset Blair. For some reason, listening to her gush about Chuck, her face shining with excitement and anticipation, had just... rubbed her the wrong way.

Maybe it was resentment. Maybe she just felt like Blair didn't deserve to be this happy after everything she'd done. Or maybe it was envy, because Chuck and Blair's obvious devotion to each other couldn't help reminding her of everything her relationship with Dan had lacked.

But now, picturing Blair's crestfallen expression as she'd practically run out of the restaurant that morning, the only thing she felt was guilt. She knew that Blair had been making an honest, if clumsy, effort to repair their friendship, and it was unfair of her to sabotage it by holding onto a grudge.

Smiling perfunctorily at the doorman, Serena strode through the lobby and took the elevator up to the top floor. When the elevator doors opened into the foyer, she was surprised to find the penthouse dimly-lit and quiet. An almost eerie silence hung in the air as she walked through the sitting room and up the stairs.

Dorota must still be on maternity leave, she thought.

She found the upstairs hallway dark as well, but she could see light streaming from underneath Blair's door, so she rapped on it lightly.

"Blair?" she called out.

When she received no response, she turned the handle and gently nudged the door open, taking a peek inside the room- only to find it empty.

Her brow furrowed in puzzlement for a moment, until she saw the closed bathroom door.

And an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of her stomach.

Blair hadn't relapsed in years, Serena quickly told herself, and it wouldn't make any sense for her to do so now, over some silly jealous freakout. But even so, she walked quietly towards the bathroom and stood outside the door for a moment, just listening.

But she didn't hear the gagging or retching that she'd feared.

She heard crying.

The sound was muffled by the heavy door, but the pitiful, heartwrenching sobs were unmistakable.

Feeling her chest tightening in worry, Serena pushed open the door without hesitation.

"Blair?"

Her eyes were immediately drawn to the petite figure on the floor- huddled against the wall with her knees tucked up against her chest, both arms wrapped around her legs. Her face buried against her knees, obscured by a tangle of brown curls.

Her shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs.

"Blair?" Serena repeated, but she didn't even look up.

At a momentary loss, Serena scanned the room, her gaze stopping on a box sitting on the counter next to the sink.

A pregnancy test.

Her stomach dropped down to her toes.

For a split second, every cell in her body was screaming at her to run, to escape from this situation as quickly as possible. Because if Blair was pregnant with Dan's…

She couldn't deal with this. She couldn't even _think_ about this.

But at that very instant, Blair looked up, her tear-brimmed eyes catching on her friend's wide blue ones- and the utter despair in her expression stopped Serena in her tracks.

Swiftly, instinctively, her feet carried her to Blair's side, where she knelt down and wrapped her arms around her friend's trembling shoulders.

"It's okay, B," she murmured, rubbing her hand in slow, soothing circles against Blair's back. She could feel her struggling to steady her breathing, her body shaking with the effort of containing her sobs.

"I'm here for you," Serena continued in the same quiet, reassuring tone. "No matter what you decide to do about…you know."

The words caught in her throat, her chest constricting in protest, and she tightened her grip around Blair's shoulders. At that moment, she needed the comfort almost as much as Blair did.

"I'm not pregnant."

Blair's hoarsely-uttered words took a moment to sink in.

"…What?" Serena said in a confused tone, before her gaze landed back on the pregnancy test box.

It was unopened.

"B," she said quietly, trying not to sound admonishing, "I know it's scary, but… you have to take it. Once you know for sure… then you can decide what to do."

Blair shook her head against Serena's shoulder.

"I'm not pregnant," she repeated, drawing a shuddering breath. "I got my period."

Relief flooded through Serena, her lungs releasing a breath it felt like they'd been holding ever since she'd opened the bathroom door.

Oh, thank God, she thought to herself.

But relief was immediately followed by confusion, as she looked down at the tearful brunette in her arms. It must've been quite the scare, she thought, if Blair was this shaken up about it.

"Were you late?" she guessed, a note of sympathy in her voice.

Blair shook her head again.

"Then…" Serena's brow furrowed in bewilderment. "Why did you buy the test?"

"I…" Blair's voice faltered, her face still muffled against the front of Serena's shirt. "Chuck and I had sex, and we didn't… we didn't use a condom."

Serena couldn't even pretend to be surprised by the first piece of information. Having sex with Chuck Bass immediately after breaking up with a guy- and sometimes immediately before- was pretty much standard Blair Waldorf operating procedure.

Being careless about protection, however, was not.

"But you're on the pill, right?" Serena asked with a frown.

Another shake of the head.

"But then… why…" Now it was Serena's turn to hesitate, because nothing about this situation was making any sense.

One possibility occurred to her, lurking tentatively around the corners of her consciousness- but she dismissed it as too ridiculous to even contemplate.

"It's not like you to be that irresponsible," she said.

"No," Blair agreed, shaking her head. "He offered to get a condom. I said no."

"What?" The single syllable came out in a swift exhalation. "Why?"

"I don't know, I just… I got carried away."

The mumbled excuse fell on disbelieving ears.

"Blair, did you… did you try to get pregnant on purpose?" Serena asked incredulously, pulling back to look her friend in the eyes.

"What?" Blair said, stunned. "Of course not. It was a mistake."

"If it were really a mistake, you could've done something about it afterwards. You could've gotten a morning after pill," Serena said emphatically.

Silence.

"But you didn't." Serena paused. "You got a pregnancy test. And now you're crying on the floor of your bathroom because you have no reason to take it."

Blair still said nothing, her eyes averted, her chest rising and falling with each tremulous breath.

"B…" Serena shook her head, attempting to keep the judgment out of her voice as she tried- and failed- to understand what was going on. "What were you thinking?"

"I… I don't know." Blair faltered, swallowing visibly. "I wasn't… thinking. I just…"

She trailed off, looking more lost and confused than Serena had ever seen her.

Her deep brown eyes, wide and shiny with tears, appearing enormous in her small face.

"I don't know," she concluded in a barely audible whisper.

Silence fell between them as Blair stared down at the floor, quiet except for an occasional sniffle, and Serena stared at Blair- studying the wan lines of her face, her red-rimmed eyes, the pitiable quiver of her lower lip.

Her distressed, almost disoriented expression, as if she honestly didn't understand why she'd done what she'd done.

Obviously it hadn't been to trap Chuck into marriage- as if that would even be necessary- or for any of the various Jerry Springer-style reasons why women sometimes decided this sort of thing seemed like a good idea.

Which only left one other possibility.

"Blair, when you had your…" Serena paused, hesitant to even bring it up. "… your miscarriage, did you… talk to anyone about it?"

Blair tensed warily, then responded with a jerky nod.

"Father Smythe," she mumbled. "And… Dan."

"I meant anyone with a _degree_," Serena clarified, trying to suppress an eyeroll. "Like… a psychiatrist? Or a therapist?"

Blair stiffened in indignation.

"I'm not crazy, Serena," she insisted, pulling herself backwards so that Serena's arm slid off her shoulders.

She rubbed the moisture from her face and smoothed her tangled hair back, but the unsteadiness of her hands betrayed her agitation.

"I didn't say that," Serena refuted softly. "But Blair… you lost a child."

Blair said nothing, keeping her gaze averted as she straightened her wrinkled clothing.

"A child you and Chuck were planning on raising together. And you just… carried on with your life like nothing happened. You pushed Chuck away. You never mentioned the baby, never really grieved. You just acted like everything was fine."

She could see Blair's eyes blink rapidly, the muscles of her throat rippling as she swallowed.

"Maybe everything's not fine," Serena gently suggested. "And maybe… in some unconscious, roundabout way, you were trying to get back to the way things were. You know… before the accident."

Blair shut her eyes, tears slowly tracking their way down her cheeks as she shook her head, abandoning her attempt at composure.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," she admitted in a hoarse whisper. "I don't understand… why…"

She trailed off, choking back a sob.

"There's nothing wrong with you, Blair," Serena insisted, leaning over and enfolding her friend in her arms again.

"You lost something- someone, you loved," she murmured. "It's okay to need help dealing with that."

She could feel the tremors vibrating through Blair's petite frame, her tight, unsteady breaths- and felt almost overwhelmed with sadness and sympathy.

As well as a tinge of guilt, for not having recognized any of this sooner.

Blair Waldorf had never been a big fan of reality- she'd always preferred the version of her life playing on the movie screen in her own head. But after months of struggling to communicate with her, Serena had finally given up, her perception too obscured by hurt and jealousy to recognize what was going on beneath the surface.

She'd left her alone with Dan, who'd only enabled her. He hadn't done so intentionally- he'd just been too wrapped up in his own feelings to recognize hers for what they really were.

Loss. Heartbreak. Fear. Avoidance.

Breathing out a quiet, regretful sigh, Serena stroked one hand down the back of her friend's head, noting with some relief that her breathing had started to even out.

"I even thought, today… if I was…" Blair buried her face against Serena's shoulder. "I thought maybe Chuck would come back," she mumbled, sounding completely mortified.

"Blair…" Serena exhaled.

"I know, I know," Blair shook her head sorrowfully. "I'm like one of those… trashy reality TV stars. I should just get a lower back tattoo and call it a day."

"No, I mean... you don't have to worry about Chuck coming back," Serena clarified. "You know he's going to."

"Well, if he's already meeting new girls…" Blair took a deep, shaky breath.

"Yeah, about that…" Serena trailed off, looking contrite. "I may have… exaggerated a little. I really don't think that anything's going on with him and Chloe."

Blair looked up at her, frowning in confusion. "What? Then why did you say that…stuff about them meeting in the park? And… dogs being like their owners? And-"

"I was just… I was upset by what you said about Dan, so I… said it to hurt you," Serena admitted. "I'm sorry, B."

"Oh." Blair absorbed this information in silence. For a moment she looked as if she were trying to decide if she should be angry or not, but then she said, "I'm sorry for the things I said about Dan, I really didn't mean—"

"Don't apologize," Serena cut her off with a sad shake of her head. "We can't keep apologizing for the past. We've both made mistakes, we're both sorry. We have to try and move forward."

Blair nodded, her expression subdued.

"I'd really like that," she said quietly.

The two remained like that for a few moments, sitting together in companionable silence.

"So do I have to… tell Chuck about this?" Blair asked finally.

She sounded so much like a guilty child that Serena couldn't help but smile.

"Um… you probably should at some point," she replied. "Maybe you could tell him after you guys decide to get pregnant for real? As, like… a funny anecdote?"

She was pleased when her teasing had the desired effect- a faint, almost inaudible chuckle. She could feel Blair starting to relax, the tension draining from her body as she leaned into Serena's embrace.

"Serena?" Blair murmured finally, her face still buried against her friend's shoulder.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

**A/N:** So I'm very curious to hear everyone's take on this chapter- probably not what a lot of you were expecting. And FYI, this story will remain AU after 5x15ish, so I won't be incorporating events that take place after that- i.e., no resurrected dead relatives, Serena-as-GG stuff, etc. Oh, except for the DB sex having been terrible… because that was pretty much a foregone conclusion before it even happened on the show, haha.

That shiny new review button looks very tempting, doesn't it? I think so

I'm remaining cautiously optimistic about the finale tonight- optimistic about a CB reunion, cautious because I doubt they'll be able to do it in a convincing or satisfying manner. There simply isn't enough time to fix everything they've fucked up in one episode. But that's why we have fanfic, yes? And as long as Chuck ends the season smiling, and not brooding sadly into a glass of Scotch, I can make do.

And don't forget to tweet "Mr and Mrs Bass" during the episode!

Thanks as always to Terrabeth for betaing, especially for helping rework the last two scenes. And thanks to my lovely reviewers, you all get shiny gold stars for being so awesome: _jojo.4ever, Dr. Holland, meg, ggreviewer, xochuckandmonkey (the "I usually never review" reviews are my favorite, haha), Trosev, mNEONw, Del, Curious Blonde, ChasingYou, Kathrynm37, Grish, amy, chris, RauhlPrincess, Ican'tbeMewithoutYou, wrighthangal, EBLouise, bfan, pty, Stella, Mademoiselle Bass, anon, teddy bear, livelybass, LeftWriter224, Aria, SummerR, chairfanforever, Krazy4Spike, alissaaaaacb, coleyoo, Questacious, ErinSmith20, annablake, louboutinlove, Rebeccajill, LowerCase32, and kosoul7._


	8. Chapter 8

.

**Chapter 8**

"Was there anything in particular that you wanted to talk about today?"

Dr. Sherman's question startled Blair out of her reverie. Glancing at her watch, she realized they'd been sitting in awkward silence for nearly ten minutes.

She pursed her lips in feigned contemplation.

"I can't really think of anything in particular," she replied with a shrug.

She folded her hands in her lap and regarded her psychiatrist coolly. He nodded, his face impassive as usual, and then scribbled something in his little notebook.

Probably "patient uncooperative," she thought with a little frown.

They were already halfway through her third session, but progress so far had been… minimal. Most of their time had been spent engaged in a silent battle of wills- stilted and superficial conversation, interspersed with long pauses and passive-aggressive staring contests.

The problem was that he kept asking her these vague, open-ended questions. Like he expected her to just… open the floodgates, right here on his tacky faux-antique Pottery Barn sofa, and release all of her fears and neuroses in one giant tidal wave of crazy.

Which she was not about to do. Because she was _not _crazy.

Just a little… emotionally-challenged at the moment, that's all.

Besides, it was his job to figure out what was wrong with her, not hers. And given how much she was paying him, she had no qualms about making him work for it.

"So things are going well then?" he asked after a little pause, glancing back up at her.

"Great." She nodded vigorously. "Work is going really well. I've made some new friends. Oh, and I just got the most fabulous new Prada bag."

He made another notation on his pad.

She imagined him writing "fabulous new Prada bag" and smirked a little.

"It's a red patent leather satchel," she added helpfully.

"Mmm."

He eyed her over the top of his glasses, a single eyebrow raised.

"Blair…" He paused and cleared his throat. "What is it that you hope to get out of these sessions, exactly?"

She stared back at him, looking mildly affronted.

"Therapy?" she said in an obvious tone. "That is what you dispense here, correct?"

"Correct," he replied, a hint of a smile quirking up the corner of his mouth. "I'm just afraid that you're maybe not… getting as much out of our conversations as you could be."

Leaning forward onto his elbows, he regarded her with a pensive look.

"How do you see me helping you, Blair?"

"Like I've already told you," she said, a note of impatience in her voice. "I recently had a bout of… temporary insanity" –_to put it mildly_- "And I would like to be… cured, of that."

She gave a little wave of her hand, to indicate how quickly she expected this to take place.

"You're referring to the incident with the pregnancy test?"

"Well, if by 'incident,' you mean, maybe accidentally trying to get knocked up on purpose by a guy who put an entire ocean between us at the next available opportunity," she said dryly, "then yes. That _incident_."

He nodded.

"Have you thought about what might have caused you to react that way?"

"Well…" She averted her eyes, looking down at the hands folded together in her lap. "Serena seems to think it might have been some… subconscious attempt to get back what I lost. In the accident."

"And do you think there's any truth to that?"

Blair sighed.

"Well, she has recently developed a habit of being right about things," she conceded reluctantly.

The fact that Serena had somehow become the voice of reason in her life was disconcerting, to say the least.

"So do you want to talk about the accident?"

"That's what I'm here for, right?" she replied flippantly.

"Well, that's up to you," he replied in the same calm tone.

Ugh, fucking therapists, she thought. With their "why don't you tell me how that makes you feel" bullshit.

Heaving a pained sigh, Blair shot Dr. Sherman her haughtiest expression.

He simply stared back at her, unperturbed.

Perhaps she should've found a new therapist, she thought to herself. This one had always proven difficult to intimidate.

"Why don't you start by telling me what you remember about that night?" he suggested. "Unless… that's too difficult for you."

"Of course it's not too difficult," she huffed in reply.

She paused to clear her throat, and twisted her hands together in her lap. But to her chagrin and embarrassment, no words came out of her mouth.

She had no idea where to begin.

"What were you doing before the crash?" he gently prompted her.

Blair raised her eyebrows. "You mean, besides leaving my fiancé?" she replied.

Dr. Sherman didn't even blink.

Blair sighed and fidgeted against the leather sofa.

"Um." She paused, her eyes clouding over as the memory reemerged. "Chuck and I- we were… we were talking about the baby. Where we would send him to school. Of course, we didn't know it was a 'him' yet, that only came afterwards…"

She trailed off, dropping her gaze to her lap.

Until now, she'd purposely avoided thinking about the events of that night; they were simply too painful to contemplate.

But now they were coming back to her in a flash, the scenes playing before her eyes like clips from an old film reel.

_Trees speeding past the window as they wound their way through Central Park. Camera flashbulbs flickering through the darkness. _

_The overwhelming sense of urgency, of desperation, that seemed to hang over their reunion. _

_She could still see Chuck, as clearly as if he were sitting right in front of her._

_His handsome face lit up with unrestrained happiness. _

_His hands clasped tightly around her smaller ones, neither of them wanting to let go of the other for even a second._

_Her words, echoing through the air between them._

"_I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you."_

_His lips, leaning in to capture hers once again…_

…_then the sound of screeching tires as their car swerved violently to the left. _

_The weight of Chuck's torso as he'd tried to hold on to her, his arm pinning her to the back of the seat._

_Then a tremendous jolt, both of them hurtling against the seats in front of them. _

_And then… darkness._

"I…" Blair swallowed, feeling a tightening sensation in her chest. "Chuck and I were sitting in the back seat… he was holding my hand, and… we were about to kiss."

"And then?"

"And then… the car swerved off the road, and he… grabbed me."

"To try and protect you?"

Blair nodded.

"And then I just heard this sound like… metal crunching. And I felt myself slam against the back of the front seat..."

She trailed off, her eyes growing hazy with moisture.

"That's the last thing I remember," she said quietly.

"And after that?"

"I woke up in the hospital," she recalled, her gaze fixed on the fingers twisted together in her lap. "And Serena was there, and she told me… she told me the baby didn't survive. The impact was just… too much."

Despite her best efforts, she could feel her composure starting to slip, her voice growing hoarse and uneven.

"And Chuck?"

"And Chuck… was in surgery. They didn't think…" She almost couldn't finish, her throat swelling shut as tears started to overwhelm her eyes. "They didn't think he was going to make it."

"But he did?"

"He did," Blair affirmed, sending up a silent prayer of thanks.

She'd found herself doing that reflexively every time she thought about it- almost like she feared that if she weren't grateful enough, God could reverse his decision at any moment.

Change his mind and take Chuck away from her.

"And how did he handle the loss?"

She furrowed her brow, the question confusing her for a moment.

Then she realized his assumption.

"Oh, Chuck wasn't…" She swallowed. "He wasn't the father."

Which didn't really answer the question - but the truth was, she had no idea how Chuck had "handled" losing the baby, or anything else after the accident. Lost in a haze of grief, and stubbornness, and denial, she'd completely shut him out. Refused to even speak with him.

On her laundry list of regrets, that one was close to the top.

"But you were eloping with him?" Dr. Sherman asked, his voice lacking any judgment.

Blair nodded.

"That's why we were in the car that night," she murmured.

She took a deep breath, attempting to alleviate that pressure building in her chest again.

It felt like a vise grip tightening around her lungs.

"And because of that… I lost the baby. And… I almost lost Chuck. If he'd died…" She paused, trying to steady her trembling lower lip. "How could I ever have forgiven myself?"

"But he didn't." His voice grew even softer. "And you still haven't forgiven yourself."

Blair closed her eyes, feeling a single tear escape her eye and slide down her cheek.

"Blair." Dr. Sherman's voice was almost unbearably kind. "Do you _blame_ yourself for what happened?"

She swallowed. "I was leaving the father of my baby to be with Chuck," she said in an uneven voice. "That's why the paparazzi were chasing after us. That's why… all of this happened."

"But you didn't cause the accident, Blair," he reassured her. "It wasn't your fault."

She took a deep, trembling breath, staring down at her lap.

"Then why does it feel like it was?" she whispered.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

"Hey man!"

Nate's enthusiastic voice rang out in his ear.

"Nathaniel," Chuck greeted him. He was halfway through his second circuit of Round Pond- Monkey, for whatever reason, was being obstinate today and refusing to do his business. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Oh, um. Nothing, really," his best friend answered. "Just… wondering how you were doing, that's all."

Chuck shrugged. "Can't complain."

Monkey, sensing his owner's distraction, tried to veer off into some shrubs, but Chuck noticed and pulled back sharply on the leash.

"So…what's up?" he asked.

"Oh… not much," Nate replied.

An awkward pause fell between them.

"Just, you know… wanted to talk," Nate added.

"To _talk_?" Chuck echoed, his brow furrowing in disbelief.

Throughout the entire history of their friendship, he couldn't recall even one instance when Nate had called him without an express purpose.

Because guys did not call each other "just to talk." They certainly didn't chatter on aimlessly for hours at a time. They stated the reason they were calling, exchanged a few pleasantries, and that was it.

"Yeah, I figured, since you're not here, we could just… talk on the phone…"

Chuck had a scathing joke right on the tip of his tongue- something about Nate trading in his balls for ovaries- but the hopeful note in his friend's voice made him relent.

Besides, if he were being completely honest… he kind of missed talking to Nate too.

"So… what have you been up to?" Nate went on, plainly still expecting to have a real conversation.

"Just…business stuff, mostly," Chuck replied, clearing his throat. "Meetings, market research, getting wined and dined. I haven't paid for a meal all week."

"Well, that's a relief. Since you're on such a tight budget."

Chuck laughed.

"Well, some of my investors also have connections," he went on. "One of them got me some tickets for the Olympics, as a thank-you gift."

"Really?" Nate perked up. "What event?"

"Uh, track and field. Some of the sprint finals, I think," Chuck said distractedly, watching as Monkey started turning in circles and finally squatted down.

With a quick flick of his wrist, he motioned to his valet Henry, who was deferentially trailing about ten paces behind him.

"Oh wow… dude, that's awesome," Nate commented. "I just ordered a new 60-inch plasma, but seeing it live would be… unreal."

"I'm sure I could scrounge up an extra ticket, if you wanted to come," Chuck offered.

"Really?" The eagerness in Nate's voice was palpable. "Because you know, I was thinking it might be fun to visit. Serena and I were just talking about it yesterday…"

"Absolutely," Chuck replied. "I'll still have some work to do, but I'm sure I can… make room in my schedule."

He tugged gently on the leash, leading Monkey back along the path towards Knightsbridge, while Henry stayed behind and dutifully cleaned up.

"Man, that would be _awesome_..." Nate enthused.

Chuck couldn't help smiling at the excitement in his friend's voice. He still sounded just like ten-year-old Nate after his dad bought him his first sailboat.

"Oh, but…" Nate hesitated. "Isn't everything already booked though? It's only a few weeks away, I'd never be able to get a flight or a hotel room this late."

"Yes, if only you knew someone who owned a plane and a hotel…" Chuck said dryly.

Nate chuckled.

"Fair enough," he conceded. "Well, in that case, I'm in!"

"I'll start making arrangements."

The silence stretched out between them for a few moments.

"So, uh…" Chuck cleared his throat. "How are things with you?"

"Oh, not bad… work's going well, I guess. I'm interviewing people for the assistant editor position next week," Nate replied.

Chuck nodded, wondering when Nate had figured out how to run a magazine. It seemed that his best friend, despite devoting most of his adolescence to getting high and slacking off, was more motivated than he'd ever let on.

"What about Lola, you guys decide to-"

"Oh, no… well, you know, we didn't want to do a long-distance thing." Nate sighed. "I guess we're just friends now."

"So you're back on the hunt for Serena v2.0?" Chuck asked, a note of amusement in his voice.

"Yeah, I guess… wait, what?"

"Nothing. Any good prospects?"

"No… no one yet," Nate said glumly.

Maybe not such a bad thing, Chuck thought to himself. After all, Nate hadn't spent more than two consecutive months single since he'd hit puberty.

"But Blair said she'd introduce me to some of her coworkers tomorrow night," Nate went on, his tone brightening a little. "And she promised that at least two of them are hot. Eight, 'maybe eight and a half in flattering lighting,' she said."

"Ah."

"Yeah, I thought that was pretty cool of her."

"Yes, very… cool of her."

Chuck couldn't help smirking a little at Nate's cluelessness. He still assumed that Blair's motives were altruistic, even after years and years of her proving the contrary.

"Oh hey, I gotta get going, my dad just got here." Chuck could hear Nate greeting the Captain in the background. "We're going to a Yankees game."

"Tell him I said hi."

"Will do. I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

"Okay," Chuck answered, an affectionate smile still playing around the corners of his mouth.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Blair strode into the office the next morning in high spirits. After a relaxing evening in the tub with a good book, followed by a long, restful night of sleep, she felt refreshed, confident- ready to tackle anything.

She came to an immediate halt, though, when everyone in the room suddenly looked up at her.

Their gazes were sharp, even accusatory. Gone was the good-natured friendliness she was accustomed to seeing.

Blair frowned in consternation as she slowly made her way to her desk.

She'd just taken a seat and logged on to her computer when a dark shadow appeared, looming over her ominously.

"_Blair_." Laurel made no effort to hide the ire in her voice. "I thought I made it clear that those contracts needed to go out by 5pm yesterday."

Blair's eyes widened.

"But… they did," she insisted, her eyes darting to the side to see the other interns watching their exchange. "I got the CFO to sign off on them after lunch. Then I scanned and sent them right over, it was hours before the deadline."

She gestured towards yesterday's "To Do" list, still sitting squarely in the middle of her workspace. The top item had an emphatic checkmark right next to it.

"Well then… perhaps you can explain why Richard never got them?" Laurel continued, cocking a hand at her hip. "And why he booked a job with one of our closest competitors instead?"

"What?" Blair's mouth fell open a little in shock before she regained her bearings. "That's… not possible. Look, I can show you I sent them…"

With quick, nervous motions, she logged in to her email and scrolled over to the "sent mail" folder.

And felt her heart jump into her throat when she saw nothing listed from yesterday afternoon.

"But…" she faltered, her mind racing to come up with an explanation.

The bold "1" listed next to her outbox caught her eye, and she quickly clicked on it.

There it was, right at the top of the list. Her painstakingly-worded cover letter and the attached PDF.

With "pending" listed in the adjacent column.

"Oh no…" she exhaled in horror.

She hadn't even thought to check after she'd sent it. She'd been so distracted and upset from her therapy session, she'd just wanted to finish up and go home.

But her mailbox was too full, so the message had just sat there.

Trapped in email limbo.

"I… I'm so sorry…" she stammered. "I did send it, it just… it didn't go through."

"Well." Laurel stared down her nose at Blair. "That makes absolutely no difference now, does it?."

"But I'm sure if we just explain…"

"Trust me, there's no explaining anything to Richard Warren. Fashion photographers can be even bigger divas than models." Laurel shook her head, her jaw clenched in frustration. "I need you to spend the rest of the day working on finding a suitable alternative. You _can_ handle that, I presume?"

"Yes… yes, of course." Blair swallowed back her mortification. "I'll get right to work."

"Eleanor won't be happy about this," Laurel reminded her. "But I suppose it's our only option at this point. Hopefully the shoot won't be a total loss."

With that, she stalked away, leaving Blair hurriedly scrolling through her contact list in a desperate attempt to salvage her mistake.

She kept her head down as she worked, her co-workers' stares still boring into her back.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Eight hours later, Blair had no choice but to admit defeat. She'd gone through every photographer in the company's database, and the only one she'd been able to book was somebody's recently-promoted assistant with a total of five magazine spreads under his belt.

They were going ahead with the shoot anyway, since they'd already paid for the venue and the models- but it was almost certain to be a disaster, and would probably have to be redone at significant expense to the company.

The only silver lining was that Eleanor was out of the country, so Blair didn't have to see her disappointment in person.

But that felt like little consolation as she sat there staring at her laptop screen, tears pooling in her eyes. Wanting nothing more than to go home, crawl under the covers with a box of macarons, and try to forget this day had ever happened.

And she couldn't even do that, because she'd promised her coworkers that she'd bring her super hot single friend Nate to happy hour.

"Blair, you ready to go?" Phoebe called out from the group of girls clustered next to the door.

At least they weren't shooting her daggers anymore, she thought- although their pitying glances weren't really any less humiliating.

On the plus side, though, there was no way her day could possibly get any worse.

"Coming!" she responded brightly.

Pasting a cheerful smile onto her face, she followed them out of the workroom.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Later that evening, Blair was perched on a bar stool at 1 Oak, watching Deirdre and Allison locked in an apparent fight to the death over Nate's attention.

They were both laughing animatedly at all of his jokes, strategically positioning themselves to show off their cleavage, and listening with feigned interest as he regaled them with a way-too-detailed story about… football, or something equally mind-numbing.

And Blair was certain Allison had had to pee for about fifteen minutes now, based on the way she kept shifting from foot to foot. But she wasn't willing to leave Nate alone with Deirdre, so apparently she was just going to hold it in until she burst.

Normally Blair would've taken a certain amount of perverse amusement in their antics, but not tonight. She was still counting the minutes until she could make a graceful exit and go home to feel sorry for herself in private.

"So then he walks the next batter, so the bases are loaded with two outs," Nate explained to his rapt audience, "and the next pitch is high and outside, just barely in the strike zone-"

Blair couldn't help but roll her eyes; she'd had enough of that talk before age seventeen to last her a lifetime.

"They have absolutely no idea what he's talking about." Phoebe's voice rang out beside her, and Blair glanced over to see the redhead sipping on a martini and eying her colleagues with amusement.

"Do you?" Blair tossed back, arching an eyebrow.

"Of course," Phoebe replied in an obvious tone. "My dad's been taking me to Mets games since I was six."

"Ah," Blair murmured.

"I'm just waiting for one of them to slip up and ask how many touchdowns the Marlins scored," she added mockingly.

Blair gave a little smirk at what she assumed was a joke, and took another swallow of her drink.

Several moments passed, and she cast another sidelong glance to find Phoebe still discreetly observing Nate over the rim of her glass.

Well, that was pretty much inevitable, she thought in amusement. There wasn't a woman alive who could resist the Archibald charm.

Except for herself, of course. She supposed she'd built up a certain amount of immunity after eighteen years.

"Why don't you just go talk to him?" she asked.

"If he's interested, he'll come to me," Phoebe replied confidently, propping her elbows along the top of the bar and leaning back against them.

Glancing back towards Nate and his giggling harem, Blair raised a skeptical brow.

Playing it cool was an admirable strategy, but she was pretty sure it only worked with guys who were more perceptive than… well, Nate.

Maybe she'd pull him aside a little later and give him a nudge in Phoebe's direction.

At least her two martinis had improved her mood a little, she mused, capturing the toothpick between her thumb and forefinger and lifting it to nibble at the olive on the end.

Or maybe they'd simply distracted her from what an utter failure she felt like at the moment.

Feeling Phoebe's eyes on her, she looked up to meet her gaze.

"Sorry about the photoshoot," the redhead offered sympathetically.

Blair straightened her shoulders, steeling herself against accepting anyone's pity.

"I'll make up for it somehow," she said in a determined tone. "Even if it kills me."

Phoebe looked slightly taken aback. "You don't have to obsess about it, Blair. Everyone makes mistakes."

The toothpick clenched between Blair's teeth cracked with a _snap_.

Everyone made mistakes, all right- but not Blair Waldorf. Especially not when her mother's company was on the line.

"Besides," Phoebe continued, "it's not like you really have anything to worry about."

"Worry about?" Blair echoed, her brow creasing in puzzlement.

"Well… it's your mom's company," Phoebe replied. "I mean, what's she going to do? Fire you?" She laughed out loud, obviously expecting Blair to join in.

But Blair just shifted her gaze downwards to her drink. The fact that her screw-ups would be automatically forgiven only made her feel worse.

She was supposed to be the one who worked for what she achieved, who fought tooth and nail to get to the top. Not the one who just had everything handed to her on a silver platter.

"Oh, look- she couldn't hold it in any longer," Phoebe said in an amused tone, gesturing with her head across the room.

Blair raised her eyes to see Allison hustling towards the bathroom, her heels clicking along at an almost jogging pace.

Deirdre, predictably enough, moved in for the kill- she trailed her fingers down Nate's upper arm, looking up at him with pursed lips and batting eyelashes. It was the sort of behavior that made Blair practically cringe in vicarious embarrassment, but Nate was eating it right up.

A moment later, though, a muted ding emanated from the leather satchel slung over Deirdre's shoulder. She retrieved her cell phone, a crease appearing across her brow as she read the incoming text message. Then she quickly excused herself, her fingers texting furiously as she hurried away from the bar and into a side hallway.

Blair raised her eyebrows in mild curiosity and glanced over at Phoebe- only to see the redhead tucking her own cell phone back into her purse, the hint of a smirk playing around the corners of her mouth.

"Wait, did you…" Blair gave her a disbelieving look.

Phoebe just shrugged nonchalantly.

"Guess Deirdre's ex had something to say about that picture I texted him," she commented without an ounce of contrition.

"What happened to letting guys come to you?" Blair asked, giving a wry little smile.

"Well, sometimes you have to eliminate the competition first," Phoebe replied unrepentantly.

Blair watched Phoebe give Nate a brief coy glance over the rim of her martini glass- and his eyes light up with undeniable interest- and couldn't help but be impressed.

It reminded her of a move she might have pulled herself, once upon a time.

Deciding to give the two some privacy, Blair edged her way around the bar until she found a more secluded spot, and settled down on a bar stool.

She ignored the guys who attempted to sidle up beside her and glared at the ones who "inadvertently" brushed against her; eventually exasperated by their persistence, she pulled out her cell phone and tried to look as busy and uninterested as possible.

After a few minutes, she glanced up at a now-flirting Nate and Phoebe, and was surprised when the sight produced an odd little pang in her chest. Scanning the bar around her, she noticed she was surrounded by couples engaged in similar courtship rituals- talking, laughing, touching each other.

And as silly and melodramatic as it sounded… it just made her miss Chuck.

Who was currently thousands of miles away, on the other side of an ocean. Where he would remain for months, possibly years.

Sighing to herself, Blair drained the rest of her martini and gestured to the bartender for another one.

At least she'd get to talk to him soon, she thought glumly. They'd settled into a ritual of Sunday afternoon phone calls, which were typically the highlight of her weekend. Even though they kept to relatively superficial topics- avoiding any mention of their relationship, or their history, or their feelings for each other- just hearing the sound of his voice, and feeling that energy crackling between them, was enough to leave her in good spirits for the rest of the day.

It helped remind her that no matter how far how apart they were, they were always connected.

At that moment, she felt her phone vibrate with a notification, and glanced back down to see an incoming Gossip Girl blast displayed on the screen.

Feeling her stomach tighten with a sudden sense of foreboding, she clicked open the message.

When she saw the image on the screen- a picture of herself, teary-eyed and visibly upset, leaving Dr. Sherman's office the day before- her worst fears were confirmed.

With growing dismay, she read over the text.

**Queen B's always had an icy demeanor, but it looks like she might be starting to crack. And who can blame the poor girl for seeking some professional help, after all that she's been though? First there was her flop of a wedding, then her little turn playing Runaway Bride. Then a marriage that lasted about as long as the average modeling career. And who can forget her brief stint as Lonely Boy's girlfriend? Oh, all of you? Well, how's this for a course in ancient history: long before she was running her fingers through his unkempt hair, she was sticking them down her own throat. Might that be the real reason B lost her bébé? For her sake, let's hope that her old chum Mia's not back in town.**

Blair clasped her hand over her mouth, staring at her phone in stunned silence.

Everyone was going to read this, she realized.

Her friends. Her coworkers.

Her mother.

She glanced from left to right, her distraught gaze taking in the crowd of people talking and laughing around her. Some of them already had their phones out, staring down at the screens.

It was only a matter of time before they all saw it.

Before they all turned to stare at her, their eyes full of contempt, and pity, and ridicule.

Tears of humiliation stung her eyes as she slid down to her feet, clutching her phone and handbag to her chest, and hurriedly made her way out of the bar.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Chuck was awakened from a deep sleep by the ringing of his cell phone, its piercing jingle cutting through the silence of his bedroom. Groggily rubbing one hand across his eyes, he peered over at the clock beside his bed.

It was 4:30 AM.

With a minimal amount of fumbling, he managed to retrieve his phone from its place on the nightstand. He frowned when he saw Blair's name glowing on the screen, before quickly reminding himself of the time difference.

Releasing a long, wide-mouthed yawn, he clicked "answer."

"Hello?" he murmured, his voice still husky with sleep.

No response.

"Hello?" he repeated.

When all he heard in response was a rustling noise, he decided her phone must've accidentally dialed him from inside her purse.

It wasn't the first time that had happened. He still remembered an evening several months ago, when he'd received an incoming call from Blair. Just seeing her name on the screen had made his heart beat a little faster, his spirits lifting in anticipation.

Until he'd overheard her ordering a sandwich on the other end of the line.

Chuck was just about to hang up when he finally heard…something.

A faint, barely audible sniffle.

"Blair?" He pulled himself up to a seated position, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Are you there?"

Another sniffle, followed by a soft, trembling breath.

"I'm sorry." Blair's words came out in a shaky whisper. "I know it's late, I just…"

Her voice trailed off into a soft hiccup that sounded suspiciously like a sob.

"What's wrong?" he asked, feeling his chest tighten in worry.

For a moment, the unsteady sound of her breathing was the only thing he could hear.

"_Everything_," she finally replied. "Everything's wrong, and I can't… I just… I don't know what to do…"

He heard a sudden _clunk_, followed by some rustling noises.

"Sorry, dropped the phone," she mumbled a moment later, followed by another long sniff.

By this point, he was wide-awake. Definitely alert enough to notice the slight slur in her inflection- which only worried him more. Getting drunk and wallowing in self-pity was _not _typical Blair Waldorf behavior.

Another series of muffled, unidentifiable noises crackled across the line.

"Where are you?" he asked, suddenly concerned that she could be wandering around the city by herself. "Is anyone with you?"

"Nope… I was out with… everyone, but then I came home. So I'm alone…"

"_All alone…_" she added, and the warble in her voice might have been comical under other circumstances.

He heard another soft rustle, which he finally identified as the sound of her pillow pressing up against the speaker of her cell phone.

Well, at least she'd made it to bed.

"Blair, what's going on?" he tried again.

"I just… I messed everything up," she said despondently. "It was… all my fault."

She punctuated the statement with another hiccup.

"And you're not here, and I don't…" she trailed off again, and he could hear her start to cry softly in the background.

"Listen, just… tell me what happened," he said, in the calmest tone he could manage.

"I know I'm not supposed to… talk about this stuff," she went on as if he hadn't even spoken, her voice hoarse and uneven. "But I just… I miss you so much…"

Caught off guard, he didn't reply immediately. It was true that he and Blair had a mutual, unspoken agreement to avoid certain topics- just the ones that were too emotionally fraught to discuss, given the tenuous nature of their friendship- but he'd assumed it was easier on both of them that way. He'd never wanted to make her feel like she couldn't talk to him, especially if something serious was going on.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything," she whispered sadly.

"Blair…" Chuck exhaled slowly, debating whether to say it or not. "You know I miss you too," he admitted.

And it was true: no matter how hard he tried not to miss her, he always did. It wasn't that constant, dull ache in his chest anymore, and it wasn't as painful as it had been, back when he'd thought she was truly done with him- but it was always there.

Like he'd left part of himself behind with her.

"No, you don't," she said despairingly, sniffling back tears. "You're just… saying that. You…"

"I do, Blair." He closed his eyes, swallowing over the lump in his own throat. "I think about you all the time."

She mumbled something in response that he didn't quite understand- he could've sworn he heard the word "Chloe" somewhere in there, although that didn't make any sense at all- and then he heard the faint, indistinct sound of crying again.

Her obvious distress felt like a twist to his gut. He wracked his brain, trying to come up with some way to comfort her, but since they were currently thousands of miles apart, and she was barely coherent, he felt powerless to do anything.

"Blair, just calm down and talk to me," he pleaded with her.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called…" Her almost-inaudible voice wavered over the line. "I… I'm sorry."

The next sound he heard was a little jingle indicating that the call had been disconnected.

His stomach dropped, and he pulled his phone down from his ear to confirm.

"Call ended. 3:10."

He immediately redialed her number and waited, fingers drumming impatiently along the top of his duvet, while it rang.

And rang, and rang. And then went to voicemail.

He repeated this several more times before he realized that she wasn't going to answer- she'd either decided to ignore him, accidentally muted her phone, or passed out.

Taking several deep, calming breaths, he told himself that everything was fine. She was just drunk and upset, but she was perfectly safe. At home, in her own bed.

He'd just call tomorrow to check on her, and she'd be fine.

A little embarrassed and a lot hungover, but fine.

He'd almost managed to convince himself to turn off his phone and go to sleep, when he noticed an unread Gossip Girl blast in his inbox.

He'd unsubscribed from her alerts back when Blair had started dating Dan- just knowing they were together had been painful enough, without seeing photographic evidence in his inbox every morning- but he'd resubscribed when he'd moved to London, figuring it'd be the easiest way to keep track of Upper East Side goings-on.

At the moment, however, the blinking icon just contributed to his growing unease.

And when he clicked the message open to find a picture of Blair in tears, apparently leaving her psychiatrist's office, his fears were confirmed.

_When had she started seeing Dr. Sherman again?_ he thought, skimming the rest of the blast with an increasing sense of dread.

She'd told him, repeatedly, that she was fully recovered from her eating disorder. That she hadn't relapsed since high school. That "it's really very sweet of you to be concerned, Chuck, but if you keep interrogating me every time I go to the bathroom, I'm going to _fork you in the eye_."

She'd convinced him that he had absolutely nothing to be concerned about.

Well, he was pretty fucking concerned now.

He stared at the screen for a moment, rubbing one hand across the faint stubble on his jaw.

Then he scrolled down through his contact list, selected a new number, and pressed "call."

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Blair's first thought, upon awakening, was that someone must have run her over with a car.

Then backed up over her, and run her over again.

It was the only explanation for why every inch of her body ached. Especially her head.

Oh God, her head…

Reluctantly opening one eye, she groaned in discomfort as the light hit it, sending a stab of agony through her poor dehydrated brain. Immediately slamming both lids shut, she pulled the covers up over her head to block out as much light as possible.

Clearly, she decided, the best plan of action was to spend the rest of the day curled up in the dark, whimpering like a wounded animal.

"Miss Blair, you awake?"

Startled to hear her maid's voice, she pulled the covers back down and squinted at Dorota, who had suddenly appeared at her bedside like a… stout Polish woman.

Ugh, she was far too hung-over to think up any good similes.

"Dorota…" she croaked, before pausing to clear her bone-dry throat.

Her maid held out a glass of water, which Blair gratefully accepted; she gulped down half the glass before pausing to take a breath.

"What are you doing here?" she finally asked. "You're not supposed to come back for another week."

Dorota shrugged.

"Decided to come back early," she replied evasively. "Thought you might.. need some help."

Blair eyed her with a doubtful look.

"You know, if you missed me that much, you can come right out and say it," she commented.

Dorota just rolled her eyes.

"Here." She held out her hand, and Blair turned her palm upwards to have four Advil deposited onto it.

"You take medicine, and I go downstairs to get you some breakfast," Dorota declared.

"Oh," Blair winced, her stomach churning violently at the mention of food. "I'm not really hungry…"

"Just toast," Dorota replied with a sage nod. "You take medicine with food."

Blair relented with a little sigh, and swallowed down the pills in one quick gulp as Dorota made her way out of the room.

Massaging her temples with one hand, she collapsed back against the pillows, trying to piece together the events of the previous evening in her head.

She remembered hanging out at the bar with Phoebe, having a few drinks, trying to forget everything that had happened at work… then she'd received the Gossip Girl blast.

Her stomach churned a little again, with humiliation instead of nausea this time.

She'd practically run out of the bar, hailed the first cab she saw, and made it back to her penthouse in record time- at which point she'd decided to throw herself a good old-fashioned pity party. She'd grabbed a box of macarons from the pantry, a bottle of champagne from the wine rack, and retreated to her room to drown her sorrows.

Glancing over at her nightstand, she spotted the half-empty box of cookies, its lid strewn carelessly onto the floor, and an almost-entirely-empty bottle of Dom… along with a champagne flute that she was pretty sure she'd stopped using after about three glasses. Sometime after that, presumably, she'd changed out of her work clothes- which explained why they were laying in a crumpled heap on the floor, and she was wearing a mismatched set of pajamas with the buttons aligned wrong.

And then, apparently, she'd passed out and slept like a log until… whatever time it was now.

She was squinting at the clock on her bedside table when she heard the lilting chime of her cell phone, and reached over to retrieve it.

Surprised to see Chuck's name on the screen- they usually talked on Sundays, and she always called him- she cleared her throat and pressed answer.

"Hello?" she greeted him.

"Blair?" Chuck's low voice cut across the line, and she felt her heart swell a little at the familiar sound.

"Hey," she replied warmly.

She imagined him kicking off his shoes and loosening his tie as he settled back against the sofa, and the thought made her smile- even despite the ungodly pounding of her head.

"Did I wake you?" He sounded a little tense though, she noticed.

"No, Dorota already did," she replied. "Well, my headache did," she amended, giving a self-deprecating little chuckle. "But Dorota came back early from maternity leave! I think she probably just needed a break from taking are of two screaming children, but… I can't say I'm not happy to have her back."

"That's great."

She noted absently that he didn't seem all that surprised.

"Especially right now," she added. "I'm, uh, a bit under the weather this morning."

"Yeah, about that." Chuck's voice was suffused with concern. "Are you… okay?"

"Well, I'm a little hungover," she admitted. "But why would you…"

She paused, trying to figure out why Chuck would be worried about her.

And all of a sudden it hit her.

"Oh no…" she exhaled. "You saw the Gossip Girl blast."

He was silent for a moment.

Taking this as confirmation, Blair groaned softly, rubbing one hand across her aching temples.

"She didn't hold back this time, huh?" She gave a sad little laugh. "I must've really done something to piss her off."

He didn't respond, and she frowned in consternation.

"Chuck, I'm fine," she insisted. "I was just… a little upset when that picture was taken, that's all."

"I didn't know…" He paused to clear his throat. "I didn't know you were seeing Dr. Sherman again."

"Oh, well…" she trailed off uncomfortably. "Only for a few weeks now. It's not really… that big a deal."

There was another pause, and she could hear him slowly exhale.

"It's a big deal to me, Blair," he said seriously. "I can't… bear to think about you doing something to…" He hesitated. "You know… hurt yourself."

She blinked in confusion.

"And I am not," he went on in an emphatic tone, "about to let you go through that again. Not on your own."

"Oh, you think…" her eyes widened in realization. "Chuck, I'm not… making myself sick. I haven't relapsed or anything."

There was a pause.

"…You haven't?"

"No… no, it's not that at all," she said vigorously. "It's just… well…"

She paused, trying to figure out how to put his mind at ease, without broaching any of the topics that were usually off-limits.

"I just needed to… talk to someone," she said finally. "After everything that's happened this year, I just… needed to talk through some things. That's all."

"Oh," he murmured. "So then…"

"So I'm fine, Chuck," she reassured him. "Well… I'm getting there, anyway," she amended. "But I promise… you have nothing to worry about."

He was silent for a moment, as if weighing whether or not to believe her.

"You know you can talk to me… right?" he said at last. "About anything?"

"Of course I do," she replied, sounding less than convinced.

"I mean it, Blair," he said seriously. "I'm not just saying that to… make myself feel better."

She heard him sigh into the phone.

"If you need to talk, I'm here," he finished.

She had no doubt he meant it- his voice was saturated with sincerity and concern.

But still she hesitated.

Because as difficult as it had been to open up to Dr. Sherman, it was almost harder with Chuck. He wasn't just an impartial observer, someone she could vent to about all of her problems and issues- he'd suffered through all of this with her. And she couldn't blame him if he still hated her for it.

She just didn't know if she could bear to hear that right now.

"Chuck, do you ever…"

Blair paused.

The question was one that she'd thought about every day, without fail, for the past six months. So why was it so difficult to ask?

"Do you ever think about where we would be right now if…" she continued, her voice wavering slightly, "…if the accident had never happened?"

All she heard was a quiet intake of breath, and then silence.

For a brief, anxious moment, she feared that she had overstepped her bounds.

"Yeah," he said finally, and cleared this throat. "I think about that a lot."

"We'd still be together," she said wistfully. "We'd be parents. We'd… we'd have a family."

"Yeah," Chuck agreed quietly. "We would."

Just hearing the restrained emotion in his voice made her eyes suddenly sting with tears.

And she felt that same crushing surge of guilt, and shame, and regret, she'd been trying to hold at bay ever since that night.

"I'm so sorry, Chuck," she whispered. "I'm sorry I shut you out afterwards and made you go through all of that alone. I'm sorry it even…" She swallowed. "… that it even happened to begin with."

"The accident?" he said, confused.

She blinked back the tears that had gathered in the corners of her eyes.

"That wasn't your fault, Blair," he pointed out when she failed to respond. "You didn't cut the brake lines, or run us off the road. And the person responsible," he added darkly, "is in prison, where I've made sure he will remain for a very, very long time."

Blair nodded, realizing that she took surprisingly little comfort in that.

"The only reason you were even in that car was because of me," she murmured.

"Blair…" he released her name in an exhaled breath. "I was there because I wanted to be. You couldn't have stopped me from coming if you'd tried."

She stared down at her fingers, picking mindlessly at the duvet, as she tried to make herself believe him.

"And even knowing how everything would turn out, if I had to do it all again… I still would've gotten into that car with you," he assured her.

The quiet sincerity in his voice made her heart swell in her chest.

Because even if she hadn't quite managed to absolve herself of guilt yet, knowing that Chuck had- or rather, that he'd never blamed her at all- still meant the world to her.

"Or… maybe we could have just gotten into a different car instead?" she suggested, a note of humor in her voice.

He chuckled softly.

"Well, if you want to be all logical about it…"

She was about to respond when the bedroom door opened and Dorota entered, carrying her breakfast tray.

Her stomach grumbled audibly at the sight.

"What was that noise?" Chuck asked, mystified.

"Uh, I think I may be hungrier than I thought," Blair admitted, eying the plate of buttered toast and suddenly wishing it was accompanied by some scrambled eggs and bacon. And maybe a burrito.

"Do you want me to let you go?"

"Well…"

She didn't, of course. This felt like the first truly honest conversation they'd had since the morning he'd left, and if she had her way, she'd keep him on the phone all afternoon.

But another mighty rumble of her stomach reminded her that she had more immediate needs to attend to.

"Maybe we could talk more a little later?" she suggested hopefully.

"Sure," he murmured. "I look forward to it."

"Me too," Blair said with a smile. "Thanks, Chuck."

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

For several seconds after she'd hung up, Chuck remained staring down at his phone.

"Mr. Bass?" He looked up to find his valet looking at him expectantly. "Your car is waiting out front."

"Oh… thank you," he said, then cleared his throat. "But that's no longer necessary."

Henry blinked in surprise.

"Sir?"

"And can you call and reschedule my meeting with Deloitte? The earlier, the better." Chuck rose to his feet, smoothing one hand down over his tie and rebuttoning his suit jacket. "The investment conference is only two weeks away, and I want to make sure we have our strategy ironed out by then."

"But… you just had me cancel your entire week this morning," Henry pointed out gently.

"Yes, well…" Chuck shrugged. "Uncancel it."

Henry responded with a deferential nod, then turned to head towards the office.

"And Henry?"

The other man paused and looked back over his shoulder.

"When you're done, can you… take care of all this?"

Chuck gestured towards the wall next to the elevator, where two large suitcases, his garment bag, his carry-on bag, and his briefcase were arranged in a neat stack.

He deliberately averted his eyes from Henry's questioning eyebrow raise.

"Yes, Mr. Bass."

As soon as he was alone, Chuck sank back down onto the sofa, closing his eyes as he ran one hand across his weary face.

One phone call, he thought with a quiet sigh. One drunken phone call, and he'd been ready to throw everything away just to run to her rescue.

And she hadn't even needed rescuing.

Thankfully, everything had turned out for the best; Blair was going to be fine, pending some hydration and nourishment, and he'd narrowly missed making a reckless, irrational decision that would've cost him months of hard work.

It would've been a huge mistake.

And he was fortunate to have avoided it.

But he couldn't help feeling a little twist of disappointment, all the same.

Breathing out a long, pained sigh, he ran his fingers through his already-tousled hair and let his head fall against the back of the sofa.

After a moment of deliberation, he retrieved his phone from his pocket, scrolled down through his contacts, and dialed.

"Hey man," Nate's voice greeted him.

"Hey." Chuck's voice revealed nothing. "You busy?"

"I was about to go play some soccer in the park, but I can hold off for a while. Why? What's going on with you?"

"Not a whole lot…" Chuck murmured. "Just…you know. Wanted to talk."

There was a beat of silence.

"You called me…just to talk?"

Chuck remained silent.

"Is this maybe…about Blair?" Nate guessed, a hint of amusement in his tone.

Chuck sighed into the receiver.

"Alright, alright, hang on just a sec…"

There was a rustling noise in the background, as if Nate were settling into the sofa and putting his feet up on the coffee table.

"Okay, go ahead."

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

**A/N: **So, apologies for the long wait, I've been suffering from a massive case of writer's block. Hopefully the fact that we've been getting sexy CB spoilers like it's Gossip Girl Christmas will provide some more inspiration.

Big thanks to TB for making this chapter a whole lot less shitty than it was two weeks ago. And thanks to all my readers who've been patiently (or not so patiently, haha) waiting for an update. Special thanks to my reviewers, I wish you all super-hot-Monte-Carlo-hotel-sex: _leightedandnian, Ican'tbeMewithoutYou, Kathrynm37, Rajamoon, amy, flipped, Stella, loopingread, Laura, Curious Blonde, yahaira, Infinitywr, Krazy4Spike, sallysally, coleyoo, olimgossip, xoxobethany, Natalie, LeftWriter224, Trosev, Elise, Ladybug, Louise, Questacious, Tigger23, k. 7, jsta, alissa-jackie, EBLouise, pty, Lae, Alys, BedwardEndGame8D, dreamgurl, thegoodgossipgirl, Mademoiselle Bass, Arazadia, ErinSmith20, bonafide11, louboutinlove, Meg, monicaxx, Amanda, an, maryl, bells-mannequin, MrChuck, Bella, eckomoon, livelybass, Grish, Dana, hiddenletter, madetobemrsbass, salbaby, scarlett2u, Roswell Dream Girl, demented bunny, Abi, annablake, and Elle. _


	9. Chapter 9

**Reminder: This story is still rated M. Consider yourselves warned :)**

**Chapter 9**

Chuck was just exiting his hotel, headed towards Friday afternoon happy hour, when he felt his phone vibrate inside his pocket. He pulled it out to see Serena's name lit up on the screen.

"Hey sis," he greeted her.

"Hi Chuck!" she said cheerily. "I just wanted to check in about me and Nate visiting."

"Oh." Chuck was taken aback. "Already? I thought you were coming on the…" He trailed off, racking his brain for the date.

"…the eighth?" Serena finished, sounding slightly worried. "That's… next week, Chuck. Did you forget or something?"

"Oh. No. Of course not." Damn, July had really flown by, he thought. "Well, don't worry about getting over here. I'm sending a couple of BI execs back to New York late Tuesday night, so the jet should be refueled and ready to go whenever you need it on Wednesday."

"Oh, good," she said with evident relief.

"And you're staying here with me," he continued, as he walked briskly towards the pub. "The rest of the hotel was already booked, but the penthouse has plenty of space. I hope you don't mind."

"Nah," Serena said. "It'll be more fun to stay together anyway, like a big… slumber party."

"Just stay away from my Jacuzzi if you're heavy-handing the Cuervo," he offered wryly.

"You're never going to let me live that down, are you," she grumbled, and he chuckled in response.

There was a beat of silence, and then he heard her clear her throat.

"There was just, umm, one other thing I wanted to ask you about," she began, sounding uncharacteristically tentative.

She hesitated a moment longer, as if trying to decide how to phrase her question.

"I was just wondering if you'd given any thought to … inviting Blair?" she asked finally.

Chuck came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the sidewalk. The man behind him cursed under his breath as they nearly collided.

"I mean, if you don't want to, that's totally fine," Serena went on hurriedly. "I just wanted to ask, because… well, Nate and I haven't said anything to her about it. We just didn't want her to feel…. left out, or like we didn't want her to come… but we do have to tell her something eventually. I mean, I think she'll probably notice if we both just leave the country for four days." She emitted an awkward little laugh.

Chuck said nothing, his mind awhirl with ambivalence.

Of course he wanted Blair to come. He hadn't seen her in more than two months.

He missed her smile. Her glare. That fluttery little eyeroll thing she did when she was particularly exasperated.

He just missed _her_, pure and simple.

But that was exactly why her visiting wasn't a good idea. It was one thing to be "just friends" when she was on the opposite side of the Atlantic, but being with her- without actually being_ with_ her- was just downright masochistic.

He knew how strongly he was drawn to Blair. He knew how little willpower he possessed whenever she looked at him with that wicked gleam in her eyes. And he knew that if they didn't keep things platonic, if they spent a few days pretending to be a couple… there was no way in hell he'd be able to let her go again. Knowing him, he'd probably end up hocking his new hotel chain on eBay and following her back to Manhattan like a lovesick puppy.

"I don't know, Serena…" he said finally.

"No, you're right," she immediately backtracked. "I didn't mean to… put you on the spot or anything, Chuck. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."

Blair had used the exact same words a few weeks ago, he realized. When she'd tearfully apologized for telling him how much she missed him.

His heart gave a painful little thump.

"It's not that I don't want to see her," he tried to explain. "It's just that with the way things are between us…"

He suddenly became aware that he was standing in the middle of a crowded sidewalk, and began making his way towards a more secluded side street.

"No, I get it," Serena reassured him. "It's my fault, really. I should have told her weeks ago." She sighed into the receiver. "I'm sure she'll understand though."

Of course, Blair would understand.

But he also knew she would be hurt. She wouldn't admit it to Serena, and certainly not to him, but she would feel purposely excluded and lied to.

And the thought of Blair sitting at home, sad and alone, while the three of them caroused around London together- that wasn't what he wanted, not at all. He probably wouldn't even be able to enjoy Nate and Serena's company with that scene playing in the back of his mind.

Heaving a deep sigh, Chuck pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

"Actually, I think you _should _invite her," he said at last.

A moment of stunned silence followed.

"Chuck, I really don't want to… pressure you into anything you don't want to do," Serena said cautiously.

"You're not," he assured her. "I know the situation is a little… complicated, but… Blair and I are friends…"

(no matter how many times he said that, it never quite sounded right)

"…and we're actually in a really good place right now, so there's no reason not to invite her," he finished.

"Are you sure?" Serena asked, sounding doubtful.

"Absolutely," he said, with far more conviction than he felt.

"Besides," he added, "it's been a long time since the four of us hung out together. It'll be fun."

"Okay, well… awesome!" Serena said, regaining some of her prior enthusiasm. "Do you mind if I ask her tonight? We're supposed to go out for drinks later on."

"Sure." Chuck couldn't help smiling at her eagerness. "Just text me your ETA before you take off next Wednesday."

"Sure, okay. See you next week!"

Once he'd told Serena goodbye, Chuck lingered where he was for a moment, rubbing one hand across his jaw.

He'd meant every word he'd said to her. He really was looking forward to all of them hanging out again, and he and Blair _were_ in a good place right now. There was no doubt about that.

But he also knew that this situation was fraught with potential pitfalls, and he didn't want to risk screwing up all the progress they'd made over the past few months. Which, he suspected, was exactly what would happen if he ended up alone in a room with Blair and a bed.

Or a table, or a dresser, or a… floor.

He had to admit, he'd never been very good at keeping their relationship platonic. And after two months of abstinence- probably a personal record for him- he wasn't feeling particularly confident about his ability to resist her.

Clearly he was going to have to call in some reinforcements.

Thumbing down his contact list, he selected a name, and hit "call."

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

"Wow, these turned out _gorgeous_." Phoebe gazed admiringly at the stack of proofs laid out across the café table.

"Antoine did do a wonderful job," Blair agreed, just a hint of satisfaction in her tone.

The two sipped their coffees as they perused shots of the two models posing by a cab, a fountain, a horse-drawn carriage. They were holding hands and laughing like the dearest of friends. And of course, showcasing Eleanor's fall line beautifully.

The photographer, whom Blair had found through Roman's _Vogue Paris_ connections and flown across the Atlantic at the very last minute, had done an impeccable job.

Probably because he'd incorporated all of her suggestions, she thought with some smugness.

"He's been out there awhile," Phoebe suddenly commented. "I hope it's nothing serious."

Blair followed Phoebe's line of vision towards the front window of the coffee shop. Nate was pacing back and forth on the sidewalk outside, his cell phone held up to his ear.

His brow was crinkled in concentration, but he didn't look upset.

"Oh, he's fine," she said dismissively. "He's just… thinking really hard."

Phoebe watched as Nate tucked his phone back into his pocket, ran one hand through his tousled hair, and then headed back towards the entrance.

"Sorry about that," he offered in excuse, as he slid back into the seat beside them.

"Spectator stuff?" Phoebe asked, glancing at the photos Blair held up for a side-by-side comparison. She pointed to the left one and gave a thumbs-up, and Blair stashed it in an "approved" pile.

"No, it was just… Chuck," Nate replied.

He realized his mistake immediately when Blair's gaze darted upwards, fixing on him with the intensity of a laser beam.

Attempting a blasé expression, Nate took a sip of his coffee.

"Oh, right, do you guys have your trip all planned?" Phoebe inquired, picking up one photo for closer inspection.

"Trip?" Blair echoed, looking between both of them. "What… trip?"

Nate tried to catch Phoebe's eyes and silence her with a little shake of his head, but her gaze was still on the picture in her hands.

"You know, the London trip. Next wee-"

Phoebe was interrupted by a sharp yelping sound. Nate had attempted to shut her up with a panicked kick to the shin underneath the table.

And he'd missed.

"What the _hell_, Nate?" Blair stared at him indignantly as she rubbed her injured shin.

Phoebe just raised her eyebrows, nonplussed.

"Uh, sorry, I was trying… to, uh…" he stammered.

"Kick me instead so I would stop talking?" Phoebe supplied wryly. "Nate, you never told me that your visiting Chuck was supposed to be a secret."

"It's not!" Nate insisted. "I mean…" He glanced at Blair, and then back at Phoebe. "It's complicated," he finished lamely.

Two pairs of brown eyes studied him with identical expressions of skepticism, and Nate was suddenly a little disconcerted by the similarity between them.

"Sorry," he murmured sheepishly.

Blair returned to flipping through her photos with slightly more vigor, and he breathed a silent sigh of relief that she'd misinterpreted his awkwardness.

It wasn't about the trip, per se- Blair would find out about that from Serena soon enough. What really made him uncomfortable was the fact that Chuck had recruited him to be his designated chaperone/bodyguard/cockblocker. His assignment, which he'd accepted only after considerable persuasion, was to keep Blair out of Chuck's bed for the duration of her visit.

He did understand his friend's reasoning, twisted though it may be.

But that wasn't going to make Nate's task any easier. A battle of wits with Blair Waldorf was not a particularly… favorable matchup for him, and he was legitimately afraid of how she'd react once she realized what he was doing. Which should take her all of… half an hour.

Blair glanced up again, her eyes narrowing suspiciously on him.

He just averted his gaze and tried to look as oblivious as possible.

It was his go-to strategy, and it had never yet failed him.

"Anyone want a scone?" he offered as he rose to his feet. "I think they just brought out fresh ones."

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Wearing a flirty strapless black dress and chunky turquoise necklace, Serena was perched on a bar stool at Butter, languorously swirling a cocktail in one hand. She pretended not to notice the attention she was receiving from the bar's male patrons- after all, it _was_ girls' night out- but she still couldn't resist the occasional toss of her hair, or the unnecessary crossing and recrossing of her long, perfectly-tanned legs.

Suddenly, she felt the room buzz with a strange new energy.

The couple seated behind her murmured softly to each other. The two girls at the end of the bar exchanged knowing looks. The guy beside her took an inordinate interest in his cocktail menu, plainly- to his credit- trying not to stare.

Serena knew that Blair had just walked into the room before she'd even turned around- only a recent public scandal could elicit that kind of attention. But she was struck by how unperturbed her friend seemed by all of the attention.

Clad in a raspberry-colored cocktail dress- the fitted bodice and full skirt emphasizing her tiny waist, a pair of zebra-print platform stilettos elevating her petite figure- Blair strode through the crowd like she owned the restaurant and everyone in it.

She spared only a single disdainful glance for the couple behind Serena, quelling their whispers with a haughty raise of her eyebrows.

"Hey S!" she said cheerfully, sliding onto the adjacent stool.

After ordering a martini from the nearby bartender, she turned back towards her friend with a warm smile.

"Wow, someone's feeling chipper," Serena observed.

"What, I'm in a good mood." Blair shrugged. "It happens."

Serena looked at Blair for a moment, her eyes narrowing shrewdly.

"Work going well?" she guessed.

"We got the proofs back for the magazine spread, and they look… fabulous," Blair said proudly. "The photographer even told Laurel how much he loved my ideas, and she asked me to help style the outerwear shoot we're doing in August."

"B, that's amazing!" Serena nudged her shoulder with a wide grin. "Only two months and you're practically getting a promotion."

"Well, it's not _that_ big a deal," Blair demurred.

But she couldn't prevent a satisfied little smile from turning up the corners of her mouth.

"What about, um…" Serena lowered her voice, glancing to her left and then her right. "Your sessions with Dr. Sherman? They must be going well, right?"

It was something they hadn't discussed in detail- Blair generally preferred to "leave her crazy at therapy," as she put it- but Serena couldn't help asking about it occasionally, out of concern for her friend.

Blair tilted her head to the side as she considered the question.

"I think so," she finally conceded. "I mean… it's not _fun_, by any stretch, but… he thinks I'm making good progress."

She paused to accept the martini the bartender slid towards her, giving him a polite nod.

"If nothing else, I've managed to go a full month without doing anything crazy or stupid," she added wryly, as she lifted the drink and swirled it gently in her hand.

"Well, good. Because _that_-" Serena raised her own glass, clinking it against Blair's with an impudent grin, "is what tonight is for, right?"

Blair laughed.

"I'll drink to that," she agreed, as they both took long sips of their martinis.

"Oh!" Suddenly remembering the part of the conversation she'd been looking forward to most, Serena sat up straighter on her stool. "Guess what?"

Blair raised her eyebrows expectantly.

"We're going to London!" Serena announced, clasping her hands together excitedly. "Isn't that amazing?"

Blair blinked in surprise.

"Who is _we_?" she asked, a little furrow appearing between her brows.

"Me… and Nate…" Serena clarified, her grin broadening. "And-"

"Wait- _you're_ going too?" Blair interrupted her. "I thought Nate was going by himself."

"Well, he _was_, but then- wait, how did you know about the trip?" Serena said, looking confused. "Nate wasn't supposed to say anything…"

"It's Nate." Blair lifted her shoulders in an angry shrug. Then her gaze sharpened on Serena. "So…how long have you two been planning this?" she asked accusingly.

_Crap._

"Well, Nate's been planning it for… a while now…" Serena faltered, scrambling to come up with an acceptable explanation. "But, I thought it sounded like fun, so… I sort of invited myself along. It was kind of a last-minute thing."

Blair's narrowed eyes made it clear that she wasn't buying it.

"Or…" she countered, "you've been planning this for weeks, and you didn't tell me because you didn't want to invite me along, too."

"No, Blair, it wasn't like that-" Serena protested.

"Don't, 'no, Blair, it wasn't like that' me," Blair said sharply, folding her arms across her chest. "I know how social shunning works. I practically wrote the book on it."

Serena sighed, rubbing one hand across her temples.

"Look, Blair, we wanted to invite you," she explained softly. "But we didn't know how Chuck would feel about it, and we didn't want to put him on the spot by asking, so we both sort of just… avoided bringing it up."

Blair's face fell just a fraction.

"Oh," she replied, her eyes shifting down towards her cocktail. Clearly she hadn't even considered the prospect that Chuck might not want to see her.

"But when I finally _did_ ask Chuck," Serena went on, "he said he wanted you to come."

Blair's eyes flickered up to meet hers.

"He did?" she said doubtfully.

"He did," Serena confirmed with a grin. "That's the 'we.' Me, and Nate… and you. If you want to come, that is."

Blair didn't smile- not overtly. But her eyes were suddenly aglow.

"Oh… well…" She hesitated, clearing her throat. "It _is_ awfully short notice… and I'd have to run it by Laurel first. Fortunately we don't have anything booked for Thursday or Friday, because otherwise it'd be totally out of the question…"

"Oh, please come, B!" Serena pleaded. "Chuck said it's been way too long since the four of us hung out together. He's really looking forward to it."

"Well, he's right, of course," Blair replied in a haughty tone. "It _has_ been too long."

She was silent for a moment, seemingly in deliberation.

But the bright sheen in her eyes told Serena otherwise.

"So you'll come?" Serena nudged her with a hopeful smile.

Blair shrugged. "I guess. I mean, I suppose I don't have anything better to d—"

Before she could even finish her sentence, Serena had bounced down off of her stool and enveloped her in an eager hug.

"Oh, we're gonna have such a great time!" she said excitedly.

Blair laughed, shaking her head a little at her friend's exuberance. Serena promptly hopped back up on her stool, waved the bartender over and requested two glasses of Dom 95 to celebrate.

"Do you realize the last time we took a trip together was to Paris two years ago?" she mused.

"That can't be right," Blair replied, her brow furrowing as she tried, and failed, to generate another example.

"It was an amazing summer though…" Serena said wistfully, remembering their two carefree months of art, and fashion, and culture. Just two best friends, far away from all the drama and stress of their real lives in the Upper East Side.

Well, two best friends, plus a never-ending supply of adorable French boys, she thought with a little internal sigh.

Blair nodded, giving a small smile of agreement.

But Serena couldn't help noticing the shadow that passed over her expression.

"Oh, I'm sorry, B," she said softly. "I didn't mean to bring up…" she trailed off, making a little gesture with her hand.

"No, no," Blair dismissed her apology. "You're right. It _was_ an amazing summer. I mean, it wasn't _easy_," she admitted, "but… it wouldn't have been easy anywhere."

She paused and finished the rest of her martini.

"We've just been through so much," she murmured. "We can't mess it up again, I don't think either of us could bear it."

"You won't, B," she said encouragingly. "You've both grown up so much since then."

Blair nodded, looking pensive.

"I wasn't totally on board with the whole 'being friends' thing at first," she admitted- as if this were actually news to Serena, "but I feel like it's been so good for both of us. Before, we always wanted to be together so badly, it didn't matter to us whether we were_ ready _or not_. _But this time… it's different."

"You're taking the time to get it right," Serena agreed. "I think it'll all be worth it in the end, B."

She reached over and squeezed her friend's hand.

"I think so too," Blair said thoughtfully. "But with this trip, I'm a little worried that we might… well, do something to derail all the progress we've made."

"Something like…" Serena asked, confused.

Blair raised her eyebrows meaningfully.

"Ah… right," Serena murmured. "So can't you just… _not_ do that?"

"If only it were that easy." Blair sighed dramatically. "But as you know, there exists a certain… attraction, between the two of us, which has proven… difficult to resist in the past."

Serena stared at her in amused disbelief

"Do we need to get you a chastity belt?" she asked, smiling in thanks as the bartender handed over their flutes of champagne.

"Not exactly," Blair mused, drumming her fingers along the side of her flute with a contemplative expression. "I was thinking more along the lines of a… chaperone."

Serena's laughter trailed off as she realized that Blair wasn't kidding- and, in fact, was eying her with a pointed look.

"Wait, are you serious?" she asked in disbelief. "_Me_? You want _me_ to keep you and Chuck from having sex?"

Blair shrugged.

"Who better?"

"I dunno, how about… you? Or Chuck?" Serena shot back. "Or you _and_ Chuck?"

"Well, obviously we'll both try our best," Blair said matter-of-factly. "But when you mix a long dry spell with some alcohol and that sort of… volatile sexual chemistry, well…" She shrugged again. "There's just no telling what might happen."

"Anyway, it would just be a lot easier if we didn't end up alone in a room together," Blair went on calmly, as if this were a totally reasonable plan. "And I mean, _any room_. I'm talking bathroom, broom closet, phone booth. Even a deserted foyer's fair game."

Serena groaned aloud.

"So all you need to do is… prevent that from happening," Blair finished. "Simple, right?"

She lifted her champagne flute and raised her eyebrows inquiringly.

Serena sighed and gave a wry shake of her head.

"You're ridiculous, you know that?" she said fondly.

"It's part of my charm," Blair replied, unperturbed. "So… to a great trip?" She waggled her glass at Serena.

"To a great trip," Serena echoed, clinking her glass against Blair's with a little laugh.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Chuck returned to his group of friends, who were still clustered around the same section of the bar where they'd settled over an hour ago. He eyed them with some amusement, wondering why they'd even bothered to go somewhere new if all they wanted to do was talk to _each other_ all night.

He'd spent the past hour flirting with woman, after woman, after woman.

In spite of the fact that he was still flying solo, he considered his tour of the club a success. He'd certainly accumulated enough phone numbers to cover Friday and Saturday nights well into the next year… to say nothing of clandestine afternoon rendezvous in hotel rooms and second apartments.

Not that he was actually planning on calling any of them, though. After the initial thrill of seduction had passed, he hadn't been able to muster up much… enthusiasm at the prospect of seeing them again. He'd only accepted their numbers to be polite.

All of their giggling and pouting and eyelash-batting had just left him feeling… bored, and kind of annoyed.

But at least he felt reassured that he hadn't lost his touch.

"Chuck!" Devin greeted him boisterously, his pale cheeks ruddy from several hours of drinking. "Where'd you get off to, you wanker?"

With that, he smacked Chuck soundly across the back, almost causing him to lose balance.

"Too busy chatting up the entire female population of London to spend time with his mates," George added in a mock-sorrowful voice.

"Our Chuck is quite the ladies' man," Devin agreed cheerfully. "What's your secret? Those girls over there wouldn't talk to me unless they were falling-down pissed."

Chuck had figured out long ago that self-confidence got you everywhere with women. All he had to do was stand around looking like a rich, jaded asshole, and they just came to him.

That wasn't the sort of "secret" most other men appreciated though.

"Must be the accent," he said instead.

The guys groaned good-naturedly, but Chloe was already nodding in confirmation.

"Also, the clothes," she piped up, looking him up and down.

He shot her a smile over the top of his half-empty glass.

He'd dressed down a little, so that he wouldn't look _too_ conspicuous. But the Chuck Bass version of "dressing down" still involved a charcoal suit, Italian leather loafers, and a slim-cut Armani shirt in pale lavender silk. He'd accented the look with a paisley-patterned ascot in a coordinating shade of eggplant, tied slightly off-center with the ends tucked neatly beneath his collar.

"That shirt's actually my favorite color," she added admiringly.

"And you hardly ever see it on… blokes, either," George commented with a raised eyebrow, as he took another sip of his beer.

Chuck smirked at the good-natured jibe.

"Most men can't pull it off," he returned, and George chuckled in response. "Which is a shame. Women love it."

"If that's the case, why aren't you pulling a bird right now?" Devin asked, giving Chuck a playful little shove. "Unless you're waiting to take a shot at the blonde over there?"

He nodded towards a woman chatting with the club's bouncer, a curvaceous blonde with long legs and bright blue eyes.

"Not really my type," Chuck said indifferently.

The men in the group regarded Chuck with confused blinks and furrowed brows. Because that blonde was _everyone's_ type.

"What about her?" George offered, pointing out a slender brunette in a form-fitting dress.

Chuck shrugged.

"Too tan," he said in a dismissive tone.

"Oh, I know," Chloe jumped in, as if this were a fun new game. "The girl by the DJ booth, in the pink dress."

The female in question had honey-colored ringlets cascading down her back, dark eyes fringed with long lashes, and a bright, friendly smile- which she directed towards Chuck as soon as he made eye contact with her.

She was certainly pretty, but…

"Too nice," he concluded.

What the hell was he supposed to do with a nice girl? Be nice back?

Shuddering at the thought, he returned his attention to the only thing in the club he found truly enticing- his tumbler of Scotch.

But when he set down his emptied glass, he noticed that his friends were smiling at each other. Exchanging knowing glances.

"What?" Chuck asked, his eyes shifting back and forth between them.

"You've got it bad, mate," George said with a shake of his head.

"So, Chuck," Devon began, his eyes twinkling. "What's her name?"

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

_**Ring**_

Chuck groggily opened his eyes to the sound of his cell phone ringing in the middle of the night.

He made a disgruntled noise, annoyed at having been awakened from a very pleasant dream.

He'd been surrounded by a set of triplet Blairs, all dressed in slinky lingerie and ready to satisfy his every naughty fantasy. And things had _just _been starting to get interesting…

_**Ring**_

"Fuck," he grumbled, and reached out to grope around his nightstand for his phone.

He picked it up and peered at it through the darkness.

His aggravation dissipated as soon as he saw Blair's name on the screen.

With an apprehensive clearing of his throat, he pressed answer and lifted the phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Chuck?"

At first, the slight slur in her voice seemed to confirm his worst fears. He immediately sat up in bed and tried to rub the sleep from his eyes.

But then he heard a breathy giggle float across the line.

"_Chuuuck_," she repeated, in a sing-song voice. "Are you there?"

He blinked in surprise and relief, and relaxed against the pillows.

"Yeah… yeah, I'm here," he murmured.

"Hi!" she chirped.

"… Hi," he replied, a note of dry amusement in his voice. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Oh, it's..." She paused, and he heard rustling in the background. "Almost midnight," she reported back.

"Yeah…" He glanced towards the window, where faint rays of light were just beginning to peek through the curtains.

"Anyway," she went on, "I just wanted to call about the trip next week."

The breath caught in his throat.

In his sleep-addled state, he'd actually managed to forget about that whole situation.

"So are you… going to come?" he asked cautiously, not really sure which answer he wanted to hear.

"I think so!" she said in a cheerful tone. "As long as I can get the time off."

"That's great." His heart tripped over itself in his chest, belying his attempt at nonchalance.

"I can't wait to see you," she murmured happily.

And despite all of his misgivings, he couldn't help smiling in response.

"Me too."

He cleared his throat, deciding that this conversation was heading into dangerous territory, and attempted to change the subject.

"So did you guys have a good time tonight?"

"We went out dancing," she said brightly. "And it was so much fun! We had dinner at Butter, and then cocktails at Apoca… Apocath…"

"Apothéke," Chuck supplied wryly.

"Right, there. And I got a gimlet, which was really good- but not as good as the ones Horace makes- and then this drink with cucumber and mint and lime in it, and the bartender said it had some special Chinese aphrodisiacs, but I think that was just, you know, marketing-" (she barely paused to take a breath) "-but they were really good, so I had like three of them, and then we went to Avenue to go dancing, and we saw Tyson Beckford- he was wearing this fabulous jacket from the Ralph Lauren fall line, which would look _amazing_ with your blue and green-striped bowtie, by the way- and then Serena and I went out on the dance floor, and there was this photographer who kept taking pictures of us, so we gave him, you know some of our best poses, and it was just… it was so much fun," she concluded happily, sounding almost winded from her monologue.

"That does sound like fun," Chuck agreed.

Even after being reluctantly roused from a deep sleep, he couldn't help but smile a little at the exuberance in her voice. He couldn't remember the last time he'd heard her sound so happy.

Sure, the alcohol probably had something to do with it. But he guessed that the most likely reason was that she and Serena were back to their BFF selves.

"Remember the time we went to Avenue together?" Blair said wistfully. "Summer after senior year?"

Summer after- _oh._

"Yeah…" he murmured, then cleared his throat. "Yeah, I remember that."

"I couldn't stop thinking about it," she said in a confidential tone. "Every time I walked past the coat check room…"

Chuck didn't know if it was because of the suggestive note in her voice, or the fact that he was already at half-mast after his interrupted dream- but there was a sudden rush of blood to his groin.

He shifted uncomfortably against the mattress, trying to regain control of himself.

"Do you remember how we ended up in there?" Blair asked in a breathy little voice, which was not helping.

Not helping at all.

Because he remembered _exactly_ how they'd ended up in there.

He'd been fending off the advances of a very forward, very well-endowed blonde when Blair had returned from the ladies' room.

And she had not… taken it well.

_With fury flashing in her deep brown eyes, Blair marched right up to them, plucked the martini from his admirer's hand, and upended it down the front of her dress- then, ignoring the woman's shriek of indignation, proceeded to verbally tear her to shreds._

_Chuck just leaned back against the bar, watching in amusement and admiration as his girlfriend ordered the hapless blonde to take her knock-off Gucci bag and her "lopsided boob job" and _get out_- which she promptly did, fleeing the scene with an outraged huff._

_He half-expected her to lay into him next- not because he'd done anything to encourage the blonde, but because Blair wasn't exactly rational and calm when she was in the midst of a jealous rage._

_Instead, she just stared at him for a moment, her gaze still heated with ire, before grabbing him by the hand and dragging him onto the dance floor._

_Where she proceeded to demonstrate, in no uncertain terms, that Chuck Bass was taken. He barely even had a chance to catch his breath before her arms were around his neck, her fingers tangled in his hair, and her mouth was pressed, hot and demanding, against his own. _

_Well, if this was how she wanted to mark her territory, it was all right by him._

_The crowd of people around them gradually faded away as they moved to the beat of the music, their arms wrapped tightly around each other. Her hips swayed enticingly, her tongue danced against his, her teeth tugged on his lower lip- all with the definite goal of turning him on._

_And it was definitely working. _

_He spun her around in his arms, so that her back was pressed against his front- leaving his hands free to roam around her waist, her hips, the front of her thighs, and his mouth slowly, languorously, making its way up the smooth curve of her neck. _

_He captured her earlobe in his teeth, biting down just hard enough to make her head arch back onto his shoulder._

"_Fuck, you look so hot tonight," he murmured into her ear._

_His fingers stroked across the plum-colored fabric of the Herve Leger dress she was wearing; it outlined her figure in almost sinful detail, clinging to every curve and valley of her luscious body. _

_And when he felt the rounded curve of her ass press back into him, rubbing up against his now-rigid cock, tempting him with thoughts of pulling that dress up to her waist and-_

"Chuck? Are you still there?"

He returned to the present moment to find his erection straining against the fabric of his pajama pants.

_Jesus, get control of yourself_, he thought, trying to clear his head with a sharp shake.

Fantasizing about Blair- especially with a drunk Blair on the other end of the line- was just asking for trouble. The smartest thing to do would be to get off the phone, so he could… deal with this situation on his own.

"Well, it's, uh… pretty late, and I have an early meeting tomorrow," he improvised, with an awkward clearing of his throat. "So I'd better let you go…"

"Tomorrow's Sunday, silly," Blair said with a little laugh.

_That_, she remembered, he thought grumpily, but somehow the five hour time difference kept slipping her mind.

"Right, well…" He wracked his foggy brain to come up with a better reason. "It's sort of a brunch… type of… networking event…"

"Remember what I said to you?" she went on, blithely ignoring his attempts to end the conversation. "While we were dancing?"

At that, his breathing stuttered to a halt.

"Yeah," he replied, the words coming out in a low croak. "Yeah, I remember."

_Blair raised one arm and slid it around the back of his neck, pulling him closer as he continued to press kisses against her neck._

_Turning her head to the side, she nuzzled her mouth against his ear._

"_You know what I really want to do?" she murmured, just loud enough for him to hear over the thumping beat of the music._

"_What?" _

_He dipped his head down to place an open-mouthed kiss at the juncture of her neck and shoulder._

"_I want to suck you off," she purred against his ear. "Right… now."_

_Blair drew her lips back from his ear, gazing at him over her shoulder with lust-hooded eyes. _

_Once his brain fully absorbed what she'd said, it took Chuck all of ten seconds to maneuver her through the crowd and off of the dance floor, both hands still wrapped tightly around her waist._

_But she twisted out of his grasp and, taking his hand in hers, led him up the stairs, down a short hallway, and straight through a curtained door next to the coat-check room, completely ignoring the sign overhead marked "private."_

"_Hey, you're not supposed to… be back here-" the surprised employee behind the counter stammered._

"_You look like you could use a cigarette break," Blair commented, ignoring his objections._

_She reached into the pocket of Chuck's trousers and retrieved his wallet, then flipped it open and plucked a hundred-dollar-bill from his billfold._

"_Consider it a bonus," she said, holding it out towards the young man with an expectant smile._

_He simply stared at the money in confusion. _

_With a sigh, Blair removed another hundred and added it to the first, shoving them both unceremoniously into his palm. _

"_All we need is fifteen minutes," she said cheerily. _

"_Twenty," Chuck corrected her._

"_Twenty," she agreed with a little nod. _

_The coat check boy stared at them for a moment, lips parted dumbly- then his fingers closed around the money, and he turned and exited the small room without a backwards glance. _

_Blair watched him leave, and then turned back to Chuck, eying him with an expression that was equal parts mischief and desire._

_Pressing her palms flat against his chest, she walked him backwards between the racks of coats until he bumped up against the back wall, just out of view of the open counter window._

_Then, without further ado, she unzipped his pants, sank to her knees, and had her hand wrapped around his cock before he could even comprehend what was happening. _

_He groaned, letting his head fall back against the wall._

"_Shh," she whispered teasingly. "You don't want to get caught, do you?"_

_He released a long, uneven breath as she caressed him, his hips automatically moving in unison with the movement of her hand up and down his length. Glancing down, he found her looking back up at him through her lashes, her lower lip captured teasingly between her teeth. _

_Then she parted her lips, her eyes never leaving his, and took him into her mouth._

_And every remaining ounce of blood in his brain rushed southward. _

_He could feel his cock swell further inside her hot, wet mouth, hear the unsteady sound of his own breathing as he struggled to remain quiet. _

_He watched through half-lidded eyes as she took him deeper and deeper into her mouth. Every stroke of her lips, and tongue, and hand sent a wave of pleasure coursing through his body._

"_Fuck, that feels so good…" he whispered hoarsely. _

_He'd already decided that he could die right now a happy man- since there was no way his life could possibly get any better than this- when his gaze caught on her other arm._

_And followed it down, along her thigh, to where her hand was positioned between her legs. _

_Stroking herself in the same rhythm she was stroking him. _

The sound of a soft moan jolted him back to reality.

"Blair…" he said, swallowing over the sudden constriction in his throat.

His hand drifted downward, over his own erection through the silk of his pajamas. It twitched demandingly beneath his palm.

_Don't ask_, he told himself. _Just, don't… ask._

"Are you touching yourself?" He heard the words leave his lips anyway.

There was a beat of silence, and for a moment all he heard was the uneven sound of her breathing.

"Yes," she answered in a husky whisper that sent his cock throbbing.

Well, he'd put up a good fight, he supposed, as he yanked apart the tie of his pajama pants and freed his aching erection. He sighed with relief as he gave it several long strokes.

"Chuck?"

"Yeah?" His voice was ragged.

"Are you?" she asked softly.

"…Yeah," he admitted, letting his head fall back against the pillow as he began pumping himself with his hand.

Imagining it was her hand instead. Her mouth. Her ruby-red lips.

"What are you thinking about?" she murmured.

"You," he said, without even pausing to think. "On your knees in the coatroom. Sucking me off."

He could hear the slight hitch in her breath that betrayed her arousal at his words.

"You are so… fucking good at that." He gripped himself a little tighter, remembering how her mouth felt wrapped around him. "And you love doing it, don't you? You love sucking my cock."

"Yes…" she sighed.

"I can tell, it always gets you… so wet…" He swallowed. "Are you wet, Blair?"

There was a slight pause before he heard her answer.

"Yes."

Then she let out a little whimper of pleasure that almost sent him over the edge.

He bit down on his lower lip and slowed the motion of his hand slightly.

"I want to feel it," he whispered. "I want to feel your tight…wet… little… pussy," He punctuated each word with a forceful stroke of his hand, "wrapped around my cock. Taking… all of it."

"God yes…" she said unevenly.

He could feel her slick walls clasping around him, pulling him deeper and deeper into her.

"Talk to me, Blair," he coaxed her. "Tell me what you want me to do."

This was a game they used to play. Chuck would start making suggestive comments, Blair would try to keep up her good girl façade, and then he would provoke her with increasingly dirty enticements until she was so turned on she finally gave in.

She usually required a solid fifteen minutes of persuasion. But tonight, he had alcohol and several months of abstinence on his side.

"I want you," she whispered, "to push me up against a wall. And fuck me. Like only you can."

Chuck released a ragged breath, feeling his cock go rock-hard in his hand.

"I am, baby," he said roughly. "Nice and deep… just the way you like."

"Yes… God that feels… so good…" she panted.

"You like that?" he breathed. "You like it when I fuck you good and hard?"

He imagined whispering the words against her ear. Kissing his way down her neck. Sinking his teeth into her shoulder as he plunged into her with increasing abandon.

"Mmm, yes," she whimpered. "Harder… please, Chuck …"

He complied, his hips thrusting up off the mattress with every stroke. He could feel her tightening around him, her hips eagerly thrusting back against his.

"Oh God, Chuck, you feel so fucking good…" she gasped. "I'm so close…"

Suddenly he felt that familiar tightening sensation in his groin.

"I'm gonna come," he whispered hoarsely. "You want me to come inside you?"

"Yes," Blair cried out. "_Yes_."

Then she made an indescribable noise that told him she wasn't just "close" any longer- she was _there_.

And a second later he was there too.

He heard himself groan out a string of expletives as ecstasy overcame him; his eyes clenched shut, his hips arched off the bed, and his entire body went taut with the force of his orgasm. The surge of pleasure was so intense, he felt like a supernova had engulfed his brain.

For several long moments afterwards, he remained slumped back against the pillows, completely spent. His limbs felt heavy and boneless, and his cell phone was on the verge of falling from his loosened grasp.

When he finally lifted it back to his ear, he could hear Blair still panting softly on the other end of the line.

"You know," he said in a wry tone. "We are… really bad at being friends."

"Really bad," Blair replied, still sounding slightly out of breath, "…or really _good_?"

He chuckled, unable to even think of a response when his brain had endorphined itself into a pile of mush.

Long after they'd said their goodbyes- and he'd cleaned himself up and changed his pajamas- he continued to lie in bed awake, watching the sunlight slowly peek its way through his bedroom window.

He knew that they'd just complicated their situation ten-fold. And he now had concrete proof that his self-control was completely useless.

But even so, he couldn't bring himself to regret it.

Because he hadn't felt this good in a long, long time.

He extended his limbs in a full-body stretch, exhaled a contented little sigh, and then finally let his eyes drift shut.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

"Morning!" Blair cheerily greeted Serena as she slid into her usual seat across the table. "Oh, good- you already ordered the mimosas!"

"Well, you get kind of grumpy when you have to wait for them," Serena responded with an affectionate smile.

"And you brought… reading material," Blair noted, eying the stack of books in the middle of the table with a dubious expression.

"Oh, I thought we could start planning our trip!" Serena handed Blair the book of the top of the pile. "I already dog-eared some of the stuff that sounded fun."

"The Rough Guide to London?" Blair read off the title, a skeptical note in her voice. "Why do we even need these? We're not broke teenagers backpacking around Europe. And we'll just be hanging out with Chuck and Nate the whole time anyway."

"Actually, they've got stuff to do during the day Thursday and Friday, so we're on our own," Serena replied. "But don't worry, I have lots of ideas to keep us entertained."

Blair flipped open the book to the first folded-over page.

"A double-decker bus tour?" she said in disbelief. "Seriously? There are people wearing _fanny packs_ in this picture, Serena." She stabbed the page with a punctuating finger.

"I thought it'd be fun to do some of the cheesy stuff," Serena went on, unruffled. "Like make faces at the guards at Buckingham Palace. Get some fish and chips. You know, just be tacky tourists for the day."

Based on Blair's expression, she might as well have suggested going to a cult sacrifice, or a midget rodeo, or… Walmart.

"Or…" Blair countered, "we could just be the classy and civilized people that we are, and go shopping. Maybe visit a museum or two. Like the National Gallery, or the Tate Modern."

"Those are the exact same things we do in New York all the time," Serena protested with a roll of her eyes.

"We don't have a Harrod's in New York," Blair said defensively.

"How about we compromise instead," Serena suggested. "I plan one afternoon, you plan the other?"

Blair gnawed on the inside of her cheeks, her gaze still fixed on the picture in the guidebook.

Rubbing elbows with the _hoi polloi_ was _not_ her idea of a fun vacation. And she'd never been particularly fond of the word "compromise."

But it did seem to mean a lot to Serena.

"Fine." Blair sighed. "But if I get decapitated when the bus goes through an underpass, you're going to feel really, really guilty."

"Deal," Serena agreed cheerfully. "Oh, this is going to be so much fun!"

Her exuberance brought an answering smile to Blair's face.

"It's been so long since we've all hung out together," Serena added, taking a long swallow of her mimosa. "Just the four of us, you know? I really miss that."

"Yeah… me too," Blair murmured.

"I have to admit, I was kind of skeptical about you and Chuck being friends at first," Serena admitted. "You two have never been very good at… well, keeping things platonic."

Blair almost choked on her mouthful of orange juice.

"Mmm," she said evasively.

"But you both seem committed to making it work, and it seems like you're in a really good place right now, which is… awesome."

"We are," Blair agreed, nodding her head vigorously. "A very good place. A very platonic place," she added.

She dabbed at her mouth in an attempt to hide her expression behind her napkin.

Serena paused, holding a cream-cheese danish suspended in the air halfway to her mouth.

"B, what aren't you telling me?" she asked suspiciously.

"What? Nothing." Blair made an elaborate show of opening her menu and perusing the selections, lips pursed in feigned contemplation.

Serena's eyes narrowed, taking in her friend's averted eyes and flushed cheeks.

"B…" she began warily.

"Okay, fine, I may have called him last night," Blair interrupted, nonchalantly tossing her curls back over one shoulder. "And we may have… accidentally had phone sex. It's not a big deal."

Serena's eyes widened.

"How do you _accidentally_ have phone sex?" she asked incredulously.

"I don't know!" Blair said defensively. "We were just… reminiscing, and one thing led to another, and then I may have… mentioned something I wanted to do to him…"

Serena cringed, looking down at her cream-filled pastry with evident distaste.

"Hey, you asked," Blair pointed out, rolling her eyes at her friend's prudishness.

"I know, I know." Serena sighed. "Eventually I'll learn to… stop doing that."

She shook her head, as if to clear some of the more traumatizing memories from her brain.

"Like that time I asked why you needed a waterproof camcorder," she recalled.

Blair shrugged.

"Surveillance," she replied innocently.

"Or why there was a chocolate handprint on the wall of Chuck's suite."

"Dessert." Blair took a sip of her orange juice, unable to keep an impish little grin off her face.

"Right." Serena rolled her eyes. "So… I assume I'll be bunking with Nate while we're in London then?"

"What? Of course not." Blair dismissed this suggestion with a little wave of her hand. "Like you said, Chuck and I are both committed to keeping things platonic. Sleeping together before we're ready to actually _be_ together would just complicate the situation. What happened last night was just… a little slip."

"A little slip," Serena echoed doubtfully.

"Right. You know. A one time thing."

Serena just shook her head and tilted her flute of mimosa up to her lips.

"I'm definitely going to need your assistance with that though," Blair added seriously, tearing off a piece of her croissant and popping it into her mouth.

Serena just stared at her for a moment, her brow furrowed in disbelief.

"And how exactly do you expect me to keep you two apart," she asked, exasperated. "When you can't even keep your hands off each other _over the phone?_"

Blair shrugged.

"I'm sure you'll figure something out," she replied airily. "Another mimosa?"

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

**A/N:** So, off to London we go! Thoughts on this chapter? Hopes/predictions for the next?

Many apologies to any Brits reading this, for how I've probably butchered your accent/slang/various stereotypes about your country/etc. I blame Wikipedia.

Thanks, as always, to my beta, friend, and trusted phone sex connoisseur, Terrabeth. You should all be excited to hear that she's working on an update to Criminal :)

And thanks to all of my twitter and tumblr peeps for the constant encouragement/pestering :) And thanks to my favorite people of all, my reviewers. You guys rock the body that rocks the party: _CBfanhere, eckomoon, occassionaltvfan, Grish, twofortheroad, Tigger23, xochuckandmonkey, Dr. Holland, merriment, maryl, Natalie2010, alissa-jackie, Hyde's Bride, pty, , RauhlPrincess, Kaya, chairilove, annablake, MelanieChambers, yahira, EmiEllie, Temp02, Questacious, dreamgurl, Elle, Chairaddict68, Trosev, coleyoo, Elise, MademoiselleBass, JessiGabrielax, madetobemrsbass, xoxo S, kosoul7, avid reader, Love Still Stands, lae, leightedandnian, louboutinlove, 24hrscout, Curious Blonde, tweedledim, jsta, flipped, Gabby, _and _aliciasays._

**A/N 2:** Also, big thanks to everyone who voted for my stories in the CB fic awards! I really appreciate the support. Check out all the nominees and winners at the chuckandblairaward tumblr page!


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Blair drummed her fingers impatiently along the top of her handbag as she scanned the tarmac one more time.

Nate and Serena were both late.

_Typical_, she thought, heaving an exasperated little sigh.

And since she'd arrived half an hour early, that meant she'd been waiting for almost- she retrieved her cell phone to check the time, again- thirty two minutes now.

She adjusted the floppy brim of her hat, to ensure that the sun didn't freckle her skin, and began tapping one Louboutin-clad foot against the hot concrete.

"B!"

She turned around. Serena was waving as she and Nate made their way across the tarmac, both wheeling small roll-aboard suitcases and carrying leather duffels slung over their shoulders.

"It's about time," Blair sighed, and motioned to the nearby attendants to begin loading her belongings into the plane.

"You know we're only staying for four days, right?" Nate eyed the sizable pile of luggage with bemusement.

"I needed options." Blair shrugged.

Admittedly, she'd filled her entire luggage set, including the hat box, and it had taken her almost three hours to pack. And she hadn't even brought everything she'd wanted to bring.

Her cheeks flushed a little as she recalled the twenty minutes she'd spent agonizing over her new black silk teddy; she'd packed it, then unpacked it, then reconsidered, then re-reconsidered…

In the end, she'd decided it would just be tempting fate, and left it draped over the chaise in her bedroom.

Which was such a shame, she thought with a sigh, because she knew Chuck would love it. Especially if she accessorized with some red stilettos and a long strand of pearls…

"Blair? Are you okay?" Nate's voice snapped her back to reality, and she realized she was just standing at the top of the stairs, staring off into space.

"Sorry," she mumbled. She gave a brisk little shake of her head before continuing into the plane.

Once they'd settled into the luxurious leather seats and were waiting to taxi down the runway, Blair took a deep breath and tried to calm her jittery nerves. Flying had always made her nervous- well, more the prospect of crashing to a fiery death than the flying itself- but now she had the added stress of wondering what awaited her at their destination.

And the more she thought about it, the more nervous she became.

Because for the first time in her entire life… she had no idea how to act around Chuck.

Sure, they'd been talking on the phone over the past few months, but interacting in person was a totally different ballgame. Was she supposed to treat him like just another one of her friends, the same way she would Nate or Serena? She wasn't sure she was even capable of doing that.

But she certainly couldn't treat him the way she _did_ feel- like she was thoroughly, desperately, irrevocably in love with him.

Not to mention lust. She was already a little apprehensive that she might just throw him down and mount him, like some sort of… wild jungle cat in heat.

"You seem tense, B," Serena observed from the adjacent seat. "Everything alright?"

"I am not _tense_, I'm just… excited," Blair replied coolly, crossing one leg over the other.

And then uncrossing, and re-crossing with the other leg.

Serena simply raised her eyebrows and shook her head in amusement.

Anyway, Blair decided, the point was that she was _not_ an animal. Yes, being around Chuck did tend to inspire certain… animalistic urges. Urges that she'd often found difficult to resist in the past.

But she was older and wiser now. And she wasn't about to risk their future together over a couple rounds of really, really, ridiculously good sex.

If she were being completely honest with herself, though, that was far from the worst potential outcome of this trip. There was also the question of what she was going to learn about Chuck's life in London.

About his fabulous penthouse. His successful business deals. His fun new group of friends.

_Co-ed_ friends.

She felt the corner of her eye twitch.

Resolving to put the matter from her mind, she turned her gaze over towards her best friend, who had settled back into her seat to read.

"_Fifty Shades of Grey_?" Blair read the title aloud in disbelief. "Seriously, Serena?"

"What?" Serena glanced up. "I heard it was a fun read."

"From _whom_?" Blair asked skeptically.

"I dunno." Serena shrugged. "People on the internet."

"You do know that's why they invented e-Readers," Blair commented.

A puzzled furrow appeared on Serena's forehead.

"So you can read that sort of… _literature _in public-" She wrinkled her nose in distaste "-without the risk of embarrassment."

"But we're not in public," Serena pointed out, amused. "And I'm not embarrassed."

Blair gave her a pointed look, to indicate that she damn well should be.

Serena just laughed and returned to her novel.

Deciding to seek distraction elsewhere, Blair looked across the aisle towards Nate, but he was already asleep. His head lolled off to one side and his lips parted to emit a soft, rumbling snore at regular intervals.

So Blair was left alone with her thoughts as she white-knuckled her way through takeoff, one question still lingering in her mind.

_What if Chuck was so happy, he didn't want to come back?_

_._

* * *

><p>.<p>

"Hello?" Serena called out cheerfully, as the trio stepped into the front foyer.

The only response was an enthusiastic "_ruff,"_ followed by Monkey approaching in a blur of galloping legs. Overwhelmed by excitement, he couldn't seem to decide whom to sniff first; he wheeled back and forth, showering the three of them with attention in rapid succession.

Blair tried to reach over his flailing tongue and just pet the top of his head, but still ended up with a wet noseprint on her palm.

"Hey there, Monkey," Serena cooed, giving him an affectionate scratch behind the ears. "Where's your daddy?"

Monkey, unsurprisingly, offered little in the way of a helpful response.

As the three stepped forward into the penthouse, Blair took in Chuck's new home.

The foyer opened up into a spacious living room and dining area, adorned with elaborate woodwork and gilt-edged marble columns. The furnishings and artwork, however, were clearly more a reflection of Chuck's taste, their sleek, modern lines contrasting with the more ornate surroundings. She recognized a number of items from his Empire penthouse: small sculptures decorating the built-in bookshelves, the ebony chess set on the coffee table, the crystal decanter perched atop the corner bar.

But on her right hung a piece of artwork she'd never seen before, a large, black and white panoramic photograph of New York City at night. The glittering lights of the Brooklyn Bridge, at the lower right of the photo, cast an almost ethereal glow towards the towering Manhattan skyline. It made the city appear timeless, remote… untouchable.

Blair studied the picture, finding it oddly poignant.

Her musings were cut short, however, by the sharp buzz of the intercom in the foyer. It was echoed by a bark from Monkey, who turned to stare at one of the bedroom doors, tail wagging expectantly.

Moments later, the door swung open and Chuck walked out, hastily belting a silk robe around his midsection.

"I do appreciate the assistance, but you know I can hear it just…" He came to an abrupt halt when his gaze landed on Serena, Nate…and Blair. "… Fine," he finished, looking at her.

And that one, lingering look was enough to make Blair's breath catch, her pulse quicken. Everything else receded into the background as she drank in the sight of him, her eyes devouring every achingly-familiar detail.

For a brief moment, she actually forgot that anyone else was even in the room.

"Chuck!"

Serena's happy greeting shook Blair out of her trance. She watched her best friend rush forward to engulf Chuck in a warm embrace, which he seemed too surprised to fend off.

Nate soon followed, his "Hey, man" accompanied by a short, but heartfelt hug.

Which only left Blair.

And it would seem odd, she reasoned, if she were the only one who _didn't_ hug him.

So she ignored the little voice in the back of her head ("_you would take any excuse to touch him, you shameless hussy")_ and stepped forward.

"Hi," she murmured with a little smile, winding her arms around his shoulders and pressing herself against him.

The taut muscles of his back flexed under her palms, his freshly-shaved cheek rubbed against her own. The intoxicating scent of his aftershave enveloped her senses, making her long to just bury her face against his neck and press her lips against it.

As friendly and platonic as she'd intended to keep the hug, the second she felt his hands encircle her waist, it took on an very different tenor.

It wasn't entirely her fault. After all, she'd spent the trip here preparing to greet a fully-dressed Chuck. Not a half-dressed, just out of the shower, looking exactly like he had right before the last time they'd made love… Chuck.

Plus, he wasn't exactly fending her off. She could feel his breath against her ear, discreetly inhaling her scent, as his fingers tightened into the silk fabric of her blouse. If they didn't have an audience, she suspected this greeting would get a whole lot… friendlier.

But they did.

So, with a painful amount of self-restraint, she finally, regretfully, managed to pull away. Chuck took a step back as well, averting his eyes and clearing his throat as he did so.

"I was just about to call over to Teterboro to find out why you hadn't taken off yet," he commented, raising his eyebrows at Serena.

"Oh, well my afternoon class got cancelled, and Nate rescheduled his meetings, so we left a little early."

"I thought you were going to text me an ETA," he reminded her.

"ETA?" Serena echoed distractedly, as she continued to explore the penthouse.

"Estimated time of arrival," Blair clarified, with a pointed look at her best friend; it was starting to become obvious why Chuck was so unprepared for their appearance.

"Oh, well… now!" Serena announced with a grin.

The intercom buzzed again, and Chuck strode over to press the button.

"Mr. Bass, your visitors have arrived," chirped a friendly, British-accented voice.

"Yes, I see that," Chuck replied dryly. "Thank you, Amelia."

"Ooh, is that a patio?" Serena asked, making a beeline towards the doors she'd just spotted. "We should have drinks out there!"

Chuck turned around to answer, only to find Nate on his hands and knees on the floor- he was giving Monkey a vigorous scratching behind the ears and talking to him in a tone reserved exclusively for his non-human friends.

"Who's a good boy? Hmm? Is Monkey a good boy?" he crooned, continuing the motion down along the dog's neck and under his chin. "Did you miss your Uncle Nate?"

As Nate trailed off into incomprehensible gibberish, Chuck and Blair shared a moment of wry amusement over the top of his head.

"Right, well… I'll just go put some clothes on," Chuck said finally.

Blair nodded and smiled brightly, resisting the urge to take another long look at the unclothedness in question.

"I missed you too, yes I did, yes I did…" Nate continued in a sing-song voice.

"Hey guys, you can see the park from out here!" Serena's voice called out from the terrace.

Chuck grinned, giving a little shake of his head as he headed back towards his room.

Blair just heaved a sigh and eyed their two supposed chaperones- one of whom was now twirling around a balcony, not paying either of them any mind, while the other rolled around on the floor in a furry, slobbery embrace.

And wondered how on earth they were going to make it through the next four days.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

"… And then Sunday night, we have dinner reservations at Le Gavroche, and tables booked at a couple of clubs, depending on what everyone's in the mood for," Chuck continued.

He paused as the wait staff deposited silver platters of hors d'oeuvres on the patio table and topped off everyone's champagne flutes.

"That sounds great, Chuck," Serena enthused, taking a sip of her drink and looking over the spread of food with obvious interest.

Blair did the same, which produced an audible rumbling in her stomach. She'd been too consumed with nervous anticipation to eat anything earlier in the day, and after one glass of Dom was feeling decidedly… tipsy.

Given her tenuous emotional state and current Chuck-proximity, this was dangerous.

So she selected a chilled jumbo prawn, consuming it with delicate, unhurried nibbles- it wouldn't do for her to fall on her food like an animal at the zoo- and then turned her attention to a blini topped with crème fraiche and caviar.

Russian ossetra, she noted with a satisfied little _mmm_. Her favorite.

"And Saturday is your soccer game, right?" Nate stuffed a bacon-wrapped date into his mouth with considerably less care for propriety.

"I figured I could miss it this week." Chuck shrugged.

"But I wanted to come play too," Nate protested. "I even brought my cleats."

Chuck looked nonplussed for a moment.

"Oh, well… I thought we should all do something together," he demurred.

"Blair and I could come and cheer you on," Serena suggested, giving Blair a little nudge. "Doesn't that sound fun, B?"

Actually, it sounded like the opposite of fun. Not to mention, far too similar to how she'd spent many an afternoon in high school: as Nate's designated cheering section, watching a bunch of guys kick a ball back and forth until she was ready to drop dead from boredom.

But the reluctant glance Chuck shot in her direction made her suspicious.

Was there something going on at these games he didn't want her to see? she wondered, her eyes narrowing instinctively. Some cute British girls who came to cheer for him? His own little harem of soccer groupies, waiting with flirtatious giggles and cups of Gatorade?

It took a concerted effort to force her facial muscles into something resembling a smile.

"That does sound fun," she agreed in a breezy tone. "Plus we can meet all your new friends!"

She aimed a guileless bat of her lashes in Chuck's direction.

The smile he gave her in return, she noted, was slightly strained.

"That settles it then," Serena decided. "Soccer game Saturday afternoon, and then Saturday night, we can just play it by ear."

"And if you could arrange for us to be on opposite teams, that'd be awesome," Nate mused, with a playful arch of his brows. "Unless you've gotten a _lot_ better since the last time we played."

"I'll see what I can do," Chuck replied dryly.

"Oh, and when you trap the ball," Nate continued, his lips quirking with mirth, "remember that you're supposed to do it with your chest."

"Mmm-hmm."

"Not your nuts."

Serena and Nate both laughed, and Chuck raised his glass in a mocking salute.

"Thanks for the tip," he said, a note of self-deprecating humor in his voice.

Satisfied that she could capably dispatch any potential soccer-groupie skanks, Blair returned her attention to the hors d'oeuvres.

"So where are we sleeping, exactly?" Nate asked, as she helped herself to a wedge of triple-crème Brie. "I only saw one extra bedroom."

"I figured the girls could share the guest room." Chuck took another sip of his scotch. "And you can have the couch."

"Why can't Nate just sleep with you? Your bed is like ten feet wide," Serena pointed out.

"Because ten feet is not nearly enough-" Chuck raised an eyebrow,"-to thwart a determined spooner."

The girls' heads swiveled towards Nate, expressions of amused disbelief on their faces.

"It was one time, I was chilly," Nate defended himself.

"You were lonely and drunk," Chuck corrected. "Anyway, you fall asleep on the sofa at the Empire more than you do in your own bed, I didn't think it would be that much of a hardship."

Nate sighed.

"Okay, fine," he conceded. "Although I could always squeeze in between you two?" he sent a hopeful glance towards the girls.

"In your dreams, Archibald." Blair rolled her eyes.

Serena just laughed.

"Well, on that note, friends…" Chuck rose to his feet. "I'd better get to bed, I have an early conference call tomorrow. I'll see you all in the morning."

Blair watched him leave. After listening to Nate and Serena chatter on for several minutes, she released an exaggerated yawn when there was finally a lull in the conversation.

"You know, I'm pretty beat, I might just head to bed too." She patted one hand against her mouth, as if stifling further yawns.

But as soon as she pushed her chair back, Serena did the same, shooting her a skeptical look out of the corner of her eye.

"It _is_ getting late. Maybe we should all turn in?" she suggested with an exaggerated smile.

Blair sighed under her breath.

"Fine," she muttered.

As she stalked towards the terrace door with her best friend close on her heels, she reminded herself that this was exactly what she'd wanted- an attentive chaperone. And she was thankful that Serena was taking her assignment so seriously.

Besides, there'd be plenty of opportunities later.

.

* * *

><p><em>.<em>

_Knock knock_

Chuck felt his heart jump into his throat.

He swallowed it back down.

"Come in," he called out.

When the door opened to reveal a boxer-and-T-shirt-clad Nate, he felt a wave of irrational disappointment wash over him.

"Hey, do you mind if I use your bathroom? Between those two," he gestured with his thumb back over his shoulder, "I'm gonna be waiting awhile for that one."

"Sure, go ahead," Chuck responded absently.

He rolled over onto his side and closed his eyes, listening to the muffled sounds of water running.

Truthfully, the reason he'd objected to sharing his room with Nate hasn't been that incident in Vegas last spring; he'd been too drunk at the time to mind, and in retrospect, it was far from the worst snuggling experience he'd ever awakened to.

However, with Blair sleeping in his penthouse- more specifically, with Blair sleeping only two rooms away, probably in some barely-there slip of a nightdress that clung to every curve of her luscious body- he anticipated needing to relieve himself, possibly daily.

And cuddling jokes aside, he doubted that Nate wanted to be present for it.

So that was the reason he wanted his room to himself.

The _only_ reason, he thought insistently, trying to drown out the little voice in the back of his head reminding him that he was full of shit.

Heaving a long sigh, Chuck pulled the duvet up over his chest and closed his eyes in a futile attempt at sleep.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

"Mmm, this looks delicious," Serena declared, tucking into her lunch with enthusiasm.

With considerably less enthusiasm, Blair used the tines of her fork to poke her own fish fillet.

"So is this halibut, or…?" she asked dubiously.

"It says that traditional fish and chips is made with cod or haddock," Serena consulted the guidebook lying open beside her. "Oh, and we're supposed to sprinkle some malt vinegar on top."

"And that's intended to… improve the flavor?" Blair was skeptical.

"Blair," Serena said with a touch of exasperation. "You promised you would at least _try_ to enjoy the stuff I planned."

"I have!" Blair protested.

She really had made an effort. After her planned day, which had included a trip to the National Gallery, a shopping excursion along Bond Street, and afternoon tea at Claridge's, she'd resolved to commit herself to Serena's planned activities with enthusiasm.

So she'd sampled the traditional English breakfast. She'd gamely tied her hair back and braved the upper deck of their double-decker tour bus. She'd taken a selfie in front of Big Ben.

She'd even made conversation with those tourists from Iowa who'd wanted to know if New York was just like it looked on 'Sex and the City.'

And now she was sitting in a cramped little wood-paneled pub that the guidebook had described as "quintessentially London," and Serena thought was "just so charming," eating another plate of fried things, and trying to ignore the rowdy young men behind them who appeared to be drunk in the middle of the day and directing a near-constant stream of curse words at the TV.

What was it about sports that made men act like such classless hooligans, she wondered.

"You've been a million miles away the entire morning," Serena sighed.

"Sorry." Blair shook her head as if to clear it. "It's just, things with Chuck… you know…" she trailed off with a little wave of her hand.

Serena paused mid-bite, a look of suspicion crossing her face.

"Wait, did something happen after I fell asleep last night?"

"No, nothing like that." Blair sighed.

Between Serena and Nate, she hadn't had a moment alone with Chuck since they'd arrived.

"It's just…" Blair paused, trying to sort out her vague feelings of discontentment. "I missed him so much, and I wanted to see him so badly. But now that I have, it feels like… he's just as far away as he was before."

Serena looked perplexed.

"Like… metaphorically?" she ventured.

"I guess this whole time we've been apart, I've just felt like we were in a long-distance relationship," Blair admitted. "And now that I'm here, and I have to actually act like we're friends… I'm not sure I know how."

"But you've been friends for almost your entire lives," Serena pointed out. "We all have."

"I know, but…" Blair exhaled a long sigh.

The truth was, ever since their first night together- almost five years ago now- they'd never really gone back to being friends. They'd been lovers, enemies, co-conspirators. Soulmates.

Never just friends.

She could still distinctly remember the moment when she'd been working on the guest list for her wedding, cross-referencing it with the seating chart, and she'd come across his name. It had stopped her cold.

Charles Bartholomew Bass, listed right between the Baizens and the Bergmans. As if he were no more consequential, no more important to her, than anyone else on that list.

She'd tried to picture herself as another man's wife, interacting with him- a congratulatory hug at the reception, perhaps - and her brain had simply refused to comply.

Then she'd tried to picture her life without him in it at all. Occasional encounters at parties or restaurants, passing each other on the street with nothing but brief smiles of acknowledgement, maybe a few moments of awkward small talk.

And it had broken her heart.

Appalled by what she'd viewed as her own weakness, she'd stuffed all of those feelings deep down inside of her and carried on as if they didn't exist.

If only she hadn't been so stubborn, she thought to herself. If only she'd accepted the way she'd actually felt, instead of forcing her life to conform to what she'd decided she _should_ feel.

"Have you ever loved someone so much," she said finally, "that when you try to imagine a future without them in it… your whole chest gets tight, like you can't even breathe? And you feel like you're about to break down and cry?"

Serena was quiet for a moment.

"No, I guess not," she conceded, sounding almost wistful. "But why are you even worried about that? It's only a matter of time before you guys get back together."

"Yeah, I guess," Blair said, unconvinced.

"Blair," Serena said, a hint of exasperation in her voice. "Are you seriously doubting Chuck's feelings for you? After everything you two have been through?"

"No, no. It's just that…" Blair paused, not really wanting to admit her slightly-less-than-rational insecurities. "I never thought he'd really leave," she admitted. "And when he did, I kept expecting him to change his mind and come back. I thought telling him I wanted to be with him would be enough… to make him stay."

Serena's eyebrows hiked upwards in disbelief.

"So because you said 'jump', and Chuck didn't say 'how high?'… you're now questioning whether he loves you enough?"

"Okay, well- it sounds ridiculous when you put it like that," Blair said defensively.

"B, I think the problem is that the last two guys you've been with were sort of…" Serena paused, as if searching for a way to phrase something delicately. "… spineless doormats who let you walk all over them," she finished.

Blair didn't disagree.

"Chuck's not like that," Serena pointed out. "And honestly… do you really want him to be?"

"No," Blair conceded with a sigh.

"I just wish he could give a little more when it comes to the things I really, really want, that's all," she added sulkily.

Like his naked self, for example.

Serena chuckled, before turning serious again.

"B…" She hesitated. "After you got married, and then when everything happened with Dan… Chuck was in a pretty bad place, emotionally. He was… so depressed, it was like he just gave up, on everything. My mom said the Board was considering a no confidence vote to force him to step down."

"And I'm not saying this to make you feel bad," she hastened to say, after seeing the dismayed expression on her friend's face, "I just want you to understand why this is so important to him."

Blair tried to swallow over the lump in her throat.

"It's not a reflection of how he feels about you," Serena explained. "It's more that… I think it scared him a little, how bad things got. So he needs to do this for himself."

That familiar feeling of shame- a dark, hollow sensation, coiling in the pit of her stomach- had gradually abated over the past few months. But it never quite went away.

And neither did her entirely unreasonable resentment of Serena, for having this kinship with Chuck that she currently lacked.

But mostly, she was just thankful that he had so many people in his life looking out for him. It certainly hadn't always been the case.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," she said at last.

"Although I'm really not comfortable with how often I've been saying that lately," she added tartly.

Serena laughed.

"I'm sure it's just a fluke," she reassured her. Popping another chip into her mouth, she flipped the guidebook open to the next dog-eared page. "So are you excited for our row along the Serpentine?"

Blair regarded her with a pained expression.

"Row?" she echoed. "Like… a boat?"

"Yup! It's perfect weather for it." Serena turned to a map of Hyde Park and gestured towards the route she'd highlighted.

Blair took one last, mournful look at her flawless French manicure before dutifully assuming an expression of enthusiasm.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

"B, will you slow down? You're practically running!"

"I'm _hurrying_ because we're _late_," Blair tossed over her shoulder.

She strode across the street towards Hyde Park, heedless of the traffic; the sound of squealing tires filled the air as several cars came screeching to a halt.

One driver responded with a short, almost polite toot of the horn.

"_Blair_." Serena's voice, exasperated and winded, came from several feet behind her. "You just walked in front of a green light!"

"I know, right? If this were New York, they would've run me over without a second thought." Blair didn't break stride. "Is that really the fastest you can walk? Your legs are like twice as long as mine."

"Okay, first of all, this is a pickup soccer game, not a World Cup final. Nobody cares if we're late," Serena pointed out, hurrying to catch up. "And secondly, the _reason_ that we're late is because _you_ spent an hour and a half getting dressed."

"Well, I didn't exactly bring a suitcase full of spectator-sport-appropriate attire."

"Yes, I can see that." Serena rolled her eyes.

Blair came to a halt so suddenly that Serena almost ran into her.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

"Nothing, nothing," Serena sighed.

Blair looked down at her outfit- coral and white printed sundress, wide-brimmed straw hat with matching chiffon ribbon trim, and, in a nod to the outdoors, her new Balenciaga slingback wedge sandals- and then back up at her best friend with a scowl.

"I'm sorry, was I supposed to be wearing sweatpants and…" –she paused, trying to think of what people wore to exercise- "…Sketchers?"

"Seriously B, you look great," Serena said in a placating tone. "Very… sporty."

Blair narrowed her eyes.

"Okay, so…" Serena cleared her throat and consulted her cell phone. "Left at Edinburgh gate, and then second field on the right… oh, I think I see them!"

By the time they reached the sideline, Blair had already scouted out the entire surrounding area- and, to her surprise, found it devoid of spectators. No gold-digging skanks with knockoff designer bags. No hoochie-looking girls with their thongs whale-tailing out the back of their shorts. No girls, period.

Except-

"Wait, are there girls in the game?" Blair said in disbelief.

A petite blonde, her ponytailed hair held back with a striped headband, jogged along the near sideline. She raised one arm up in the air, and a moment later, the ball whizzed towards her on a diagonal.

"Oh yeah, I guess it's co-ed." Serena said, as if that were totally unremarkable.

Blair felt her eyebrows climbing up her forehead.

"It's not that weird." Serena shrugged. "Dan played in a co-ed rec league back in high school."

"Of course he did."

Serena's brow crinkled in puzzlement.

"Humphrey spent most of his formative years writing sonnets about your hair, Serena," Blair sighed. "Sports aren't exactly his forte."

Serena looked as if she couldn't decide whether to be offended or not.

"You know, it's not like Chuck is all that athletic either," she pointed out.

"Well, that's not… entirely true." Blair allowed a tiny smirk to cross her face.

"Ew," was Serena's succinct response.

Blair continued to scan the field, finally spotting Chuck near the opposite sideline. He was wearing some sort of blue-and-white team jersey, matching shorts, and a faint sheen of perspiration.

Athletics suited him, she decided. He looked all… hot and tousled.

"Hey guys!" Serena shouted, waving cheerfully.

Nate waved at them with a wide grin.

Chuck's smile of acknowledgement, in contrast, looked somewhat forced.

And she felt that familiar knot of anxiety forming in the pit of her stomach.

"Did you get the impression that, um… Chuck didn't really want us to come?" she ventured, taking care to keep her voice casual.

"No, why?"

"I don't know, he just seemed a little… reluctant, that's all."

"Maybe he thought we'd be bored." Serena shrugged.

"Well, it's certainly not the most thrilling sport, is it?" Blair said deprecatingly. She watched one player pass the ball to another player, who then passed it back to the first player.

This, as far as Blair could tell, was about 90% of soccer.

"It does seem to attract particularly hot guys though," Serena commented, eying a tall midfielder with sandy-colored hair and broad shoulders. "Maybe Chuck can introduce me."

"I thought you were choosing to 'work on you', female empowerment, et cetera?" Blair raised a brow.

"I'm single, I'm not dead." Serena smiled impishly. "Woo-hoo!" She suddenly clapped her hands together. "Yeah Nate!"

Blair looked up to see him feint past a defender and dribble across midfield, straight towards Chuck.

Nate faked to one side and then, with a quick step over, accelerated in the opposite direction; Chuck had already lunged too far the wrong way and was left in the dust.

Serena cheered wildly as Nate's shot on goal flew into the net, just barely under the crossbar. Blair contributed a few dutiful claps.

Feeling Chuck's gaze on her, she looked back towards him, but he'd already turned away.

"Soccer players always have such nice calves," Serena said, with another admiring glance towards Fratty Blonde Guy.

Never let it be said that Serena didn't have a type, Blair thought to herself.

"Feels just like old times, doesn't it?" Serena mused.

"What, watching Nate dominate everyone at whatever sport he's playing?" Blair asked dryly.

"Remember that time we taught him how to play field hockey?" Serena shook her head with a little laugh. "He was better than either of us in like five minutes."

A sudden cheer brought their attention back to the field.

Blonde ponytail had evidently scored a goal for the other team. She ran back down the field, fist held aloft in triumph.

"I think that's Chloe," Serena said, answering Blair's unspoken question. "It looks like her profile pic, anyway. She commented on Chuck's Instagram."

"Oh," Blair responded, attempting to sound nonchalant.

Serena's amused look indicated that she'd failed.

"For the millionth time, B, you have nothing to worry about," Serena said, in the sort of voice you might use to explain to a five-year-old that there were no monsters under the bed.

Which was silly, because Blair wasn't worried, at all.

Chloe _was_ cute, she admitted to herself. Albeit in a sweaty, tomboyish sort of way.

And sure, now she and Chuck were walking side-by-side back to the other side of the field, talking about… something. There were hand motions involved, and they didn't appear to be of the sexy variety.

But she did note the way Chloe's eyes followed him as they returned to their respective positions.

And she didn't like that one bit.

When play resumed, the forward tapped the ball back to the center mid; he crossed it to Chuck, who sent a slightly wobbly pass over to Chloe.

But his aim was off, and it was immediately intercepted by the other team.

She caught him glancing at her again before falling back into defensive position.

"What was that you said about Chuck being athletic?" Serena asked in an amused voice.

And in an instant, Blair realized why he hadn't wanted her there.

It wasn't because he had anything to hide. It certainly wasn't because of any other girls.

It was because he was embarrassed.

Embarrassment was such an un-Chuck-like emotion that she hadn't even considered it. Much like herself, he excelled at pretty much everything he did; unlike herself, he'd always seemed impervious to shame.

But joking about his ineptitude over the phone was one thing… actually having her here, watching as he got his ass handed to him, was quite another.

Blair felt a swell of tenderness, for this proud, self-assured man, whose rare moments of vulnerability seemed visible only to her.

"You know, she's actually good," Serena commented, watching Chloe steal the ball from the opposing midfielder and sprint downfield. "Better than most of the guys out there."

Blair made a harrumphing sound.

She watched with satisfaction as the blonde girl got tangled up with a defender; eventually, in desperation, Chloe spun around and passed the ball back to Chuck.

He hesitated for just a moment, then took off towards the goal. His movements weren't nearly as effortless as some of the other players, but they were well-controlled, and it looked as though he might get off an open shot.

As he approached the penalty area, Blair felt herself bounce up and down on her heels, hands clasped together in nervous anticipation.

Then, in a sudden blur of movement, a defender slid in feet-first, knocking the ball to the side.

And Chuck to the ground.

"_Hey!_" Blair reacted immediately, her feet carrying her forward without her even realizing it. "That's a _foul!_"

Everyone stopped in their tracks, turning to stare at the source of the sudden outburst.

"You can't just knock people over like that!" Blair marched onto the field, spine ramrod-straight and voice brimming with indignation. "You could've hurt someone, you... you _lumbering oaf!_"

The oaf in question- a broad-shouldered guy with reddish hair and ruddy cheeks- looked legitimately concerned as Blair approached, index finger extended and ready to poke him in the chest.

"Blair, Blair…" Serena caught ahold of her arm from behind. "It's fine, really. It was just a slide tackle."

Blair came to a halt, eyes still narrowed on Chuck's assailant. Serena fruitlessly tried to tug her back towards the sideline.

Chuck, meanwhile, had rolled over to a seated position, hands resting on his knees as he caught his breath. He regarded Blair with an amused quirk of his brows.

"Sorry about that, mate." The redhead offered him a hand up, casting a wary look in Blair's direction.

"No problem." Chuck dusted off the front of his shorts.

Serena tugged on her arm again, and this time Blair allowed herself to be led back to the sideline.

Once there, she bent down to pick up the hat that had flown off as she'd stomped onto the field. She carefully brushed it off and settled it back on her head, then resumed watching the game, hands folded neatly in front of her.

"I think in soccer they're penalties, not fouls," Serena informed her in a low voice.

Blair waved dismissively. "Fine, call a penalty, whatever. Put him in the penalty box."

"That's hockey."

"Who are you, ESPN?" Blair folded her arms across her chest and continued glowering at the slide-tackling defender.

He cast a nervous glance back over his shoulder, as if he could feel her eyes on him.

"Well, drinks tonight should be fun," Serena commented, trying to suppress a smile.

"Drinks?" Blair echoed absently.

"Yeah, didn't Nate tell you? We're going out with Chuck's friends."

"And I'm sure they don't think you're crazy _at all_," she added under her breath.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

The pub did have a certain amount of charm, Blair admitted to herself. Preserved from the Victorian era, it was lavishly decorated with hand-carved mahogany, burgundy leather, and enormous etched mirrors. Bronzed light fixtures bathed the interior in a warm, homey glow.

It was also tiny and packed with people, which is why there were nine of them crowded around one small table. Serena, Nate, and Chloe sat shoulder-to-shoulder along one bench, while Fratty Blonde Guy, the red-headed defender- whose name was apparently Brett- and another guy named Devin occupied the upholstered stools along the outside of the booth.

And Blair sat on the other bench between Chuck and his friend George… who kept glancing at her with a knowing look, as though he found something privately amusing.

They were an entertaining group, chatting and bantering with ease. Serena and Nate fit in immediately; Nate was thrilled to meet fellow Premier League fans, and Serena had Fratty Blonde Guy half in love with her before their drinks had even arrived.

"Manhattan sounds fantastic," Blair overheard him saying earnestly. "Maybe you could show me around sometime?"

Serena beamed.

Blair rolled her eyes.

At Serena's insistence, she'd changed into her most casual outfit- the sleeveless white silk blouse with oversized bow neckline, skinny jeans, and her cobalt t-strap Manolos. She also wore her friendliest, most approachable smile, so Chuck's friends would know that she was definitely _not _crazy.

This was proving to be a challenge, though, every time she looked at Chloe. The smile kept stiffening into more of a teeth-baring snarl.

Chloe seemed cheerfully oblivious.

"So Chuck tells me you're in fashion?" she asked, smiling at Blair with genuine interest.

She had a little gap between her top front teeth, Blair noticed. This pleased her inordinately.

"Yes, well, I'm just interning at my mother's company," she said with feigned modesty. "Eleanor Waldorf? You may have heard of her."

"Oh no, I'm hopeless with clothes." Chloe gestured towards her own jeans-and-t-shirt ensemble. "My mum's a bank teller."

"Probably shows," she added with a little laugh.

"Not at all." Blair smiled insincerely.

"And Chuck is so stylish, you two look fabulous together," Chloe added warmly.

Her bitchiness momentarily disarmed, Blair found herself at a sudden loss for words.

Then Chloe's admiring glance drifted over towards Chuck, and lingered, for just a beat too long.

Blair's eyes narrowed.

"Well, we try," she said sweetly. "I guess we've been featured in Page Six a few times… the Met Gala, opening night at the Philharmonic, the Mount Sinai benefit …" She pursed her lips, as if trying to remember them all. "Oh, and Fashion Week, of course. But really, who can keep count?"

Chuck raised an amused brow at her. Blair just smiled back, lashes fluttering innocently.

A waitress arrived, deftly maneuvering a tray with a tall stack of glasses, several pitchers of beer… and a single glass of white wine, which she placed in front of Blair with an ironic flourish.

"Didn't want to try the local specialty?" Serena asked, grinning.

Blair hadn't actually ordered anything- someone had surmised, correctly, that she wouldn't be interested in the piss-colored swill that passed as a beverage in these sorts of establishments. But immediately after sampling her wine- a surprisingly-passable Pinot Grigio- she realized that everyone else was drinking the beer.

Everyone, including Chuck.

He caught her startled look as he lifted the glass to his mouth. Then, with a shrug and a little smirk, he took a long, deliberate swallow.

Chuck, playing sports? Drinking _beer_? What the hell was going on here?

"You should've seen his face the first time," George said under his breath. "Like he was trying to figure out how to spit it out without any of us noticing."

George promptly imitated this expression, and Blair couldn't help but laugh.

"He's a good sport though." He raised his voice so that Chuck could hear him. "Shows up on the pitch every week and takes his beating like a man."

"He's actually gotten much better," Brett added, in a faux-confidential tone. "First few weeks, he was absolute rubbish."

Chuck took the ribbing good-naturedly; nevertheless, Blair felt compelled to defend him.

"Well, I thought he played great today," she said firmly.

"Not very familiar with football then, are you?" George asked, deadpan, eliciting a chorus of laughter from the others.

"And that goal at the end, that was really..." She tried to think of a good adjective for an athletic maneuver. "… impressive."

Nate snorted.

"He only scored because everyone was so afraid of _you_, they stopped playing defense on him," he pointed out.

No one disputed this.

Blair just shrugged, not seeing the problem.

"Seriously though, Chuck's a good bloke to have around," George continued. "Fantastic wingman. He attracts the ladies in droves, I've never seen anything like it."

Out of the corner of her eye, Blair could see Chuck smirk in acknowledgment, and her gut tightened into an uneasy knot.

"Of course, he's not interested in any of them," George took a long gulp of his ale. "But the ones willing to lower their standards a little can take solace in me and Devin here."

"So long as they're not too particular about looks or money," Devin agreed cheerfully.

"Ah, don't sell yourselves short. After five or six of these-" Brett gestured with his pint glass "-you're both downright tolerable-looking."

Her sense of relief almost palpable, Blair joined in the group's laughter.

She still had no doubt that Chloe- along with the aforementioned "droves of ladies"- would jump on Chuck's dick in half a second, given the slightest encouragement.

But it was starting to become obvious that they hadn't received any.

And that maybe, _maybe_ she'd overreacted, just a tad.

"So Blair, you go to Columbia?" Brett inquired.

She nodded. It was strange, she thought, how they seemed to already know so much about her.

"I have a cousin who went to Uni in New York," George commented. "Bit of a divvy, though. Definitely not Ivy League material. What are you studying?"

"Economics, with a concentration in business management," Blair replied proudly.

This was a recent decision, after meeting with her advisor the previous week. She'd concluded that regardless of whether she stayed in fashion, she intended to make a lot of money, and have power and authority over a lot of people.

And since "manage" was basically just a euphemism for "rule over," the major seemed like a perfect fit.

"All part of your plan to 'redefine the New York fashion industry and establish a global brand'?" Brett's voice had a slightly affected lilt, as though he were quoting someone.

"Well…" Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Sure, I mean, long-term…"

"Oh, we saw the ad campaign you worked on!" Chloe chimed in. "It was really lovely."

"Oh right, the picture with the, uh… pink jacket," George recalled.

Blair was taken aback- first, by someone she kept staring daggers at continuing to be so obliviously nice to her, and second, by the fact that any of them would've seen an ad in Vogue Paris.

"Coral peacoat," she clarified absently. "Coral's going to be all over the fall runways."

"Yes, well, it was very… pretty." George sounded about as natural describing clothes as she did talking about sports. "Chuck showed us last week. Tell me, do most American lads carry around ladies' fashion magazines?" he asked curiously. "Not the sexy ones, but the ones full of… hats and handbags and whatnot?"

"I wouldn't say 'most'…" Nate said dryly.

"I suspected as much," George gave an exaggerated sigh. "This bloke needs even more help than we thought. Maybe we should all chip in and buy him some jeans?"

As everyone laughed, Blair glanced over at Chuck.

He was smiling at the friendly jibes, but when his eyes met hers, it was with that look- that intense, inscrutable gaze that never failed to make her heart beat faster and her stomach flutter.

"Having fun?" he asked in an undertone.

"I am," she replied, surprised to find that she actually meant it.

Being around people who seemed so entirely comfortable in their own skin- not a common occurrence on the UES- was having a pleasantly relaxing effect on her.

And having Chuck's thigh pressed snugly against hers was pleasant as well, albeit in a less relaxing way.

"Good," he murmured, taking a sip of his drink.

She noticed that he'd managed to covertly exchange his pint for a glass of Scotch.

Then, in a leisurely, unobtrusive movement, he lifted his other arm and rested it along the high wooden back of their booth. It was almost, but not quite, around her shoulders.

To anyone else, the gesture would've looked casual, even thoughtless.

Blair knew better.

The pads of his fingertips lightly brushed against the bare skin of her upper arm. Paused. And then lingered.

Blair bit down on her lip to try and contain a smile, but it was no use- she could feel the corners of her mouth edging upwards.

And when she glanced at him, just out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed the answering curve of his own mouth.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

The following evening, the foursome arrived at Amika, already buzzed off a celebratory champagne toast and several bottles of good Bordeaux. With a deferential nod in Chuck's direction, one of the bouncers escorted them past the line of waiting club-goers to their reserved table.

And thanks to some deft maneuvering, Blair managed to slip in beside Chuck, so they were seated together along the back wall of the booth.

She'd mostly behaved herself at dinner- no excessive staring, flirty looks, or suggestive gestures with her wine glass- but she wasn't sure how much longer her willpower was going to hold up.

Because Chuck looked absolutely delicious tonight. It wasn't just the outfit- although his gray herringbone vest and slacks, pale pink shirt with fleur-de-lis cufflinks, and striped pewter ascot were all flawlessly coordinated.

It was more that unmistakable presence he had. The way he walked, with a perfectly refined saunter. The way he smiled, one side of his mouth slanting upwards more than the other. The way he smelled, like Scotch, and soap, and Clive Christian cologne; she kept catching herself leaning forward to catch a whiff of it.

Chuck's eyes met hers over the top of his drink, and a spark of nervous excitement shot through her belly.

How she'd ever convinced herself she could get over this man, she had no idea.

"So how are you enjoying NYU so far?" he asked Serena.

"Oh, I love it!" she replied, sitting up straighter in her seat. "I just registered for fall semester- Film Theory, Intro to American Cinema, and a Screenwriting class that's supposed to be fantastic."

"That's great."

"Right, well." Serena hesitated. "The only problem is…"

Blair, having already heard plenty about this particular problem, rolled her eyes.

"It turns out, Dan and I have the same advisor. We ran into each other outside his office last week, and it was so awkward," Serena sighed. "And then, during all of that… awkwardness, I found out that he's in two of my classes next semester."

"My condolences," Chuck said dryly.

Blair was relieved to see that he looked unperturbed by the mention of Dan's name, which hadn't come up in conversation since the morning Chuck had left for London.

Not that there'd been much reason for it to do so; she hadn't had any contact with Dan since their breakup. She suspected his radio silence was meant to punish her for dumping him.

Which made her feel much less guilty about not missing him.

"I finally find a major I'm actually excited about, and classes I am- well, _was_- excited about. And now this," Serena said glumly, resting her chin on one upturned hand.

"Wait, were you… surprised to see him there?" Nate asked in a perplexed tone.

"I mean, you transferred to his department, at his school," he explained, in response to Serena's questioning look. "Didn't you kind of expect to run into him?"

"See, even Nate could see this coming," Blair said under her breath.

"I just… I didn't really think about it," Serena said defensively.

"I just figured you did it on purpose." Nate shrugged.

"Why would I do it on _purpose_?"

"Because you're not over him?" Nate said in an obvious tone. He glanced over at Blair and Chuck with raised eyebrows. "I'm sorry, was that supposed to be a secret?"

"I am not… _not_ over him!" Serena looked appalled.

"Okay, sure."

Nate's tone made Serena practically sputter in indignation.

"Why would you even think that?"

"Well, I did have a front row seat to the 'Serena isn't over Dan' show," he pointed out.

"That was like two years ago!" she protested, her hands splaying out in an offended hand gesture.

Then, with a deep breath, she visibly calmed herself.

"Look, it's bad enough that I have to see him at my mom's all the time. It's almost like he purposely shows up when he knows I'm going to be there." Serena shook her head. "But now I have to see him at school too, and… ugh, it just sucks to constantly have your ex-boyfriend in your face everywhere you go."

"Well, there is one way to avoid that," Chuck interjected.

Serena gave him a quizzical look.

"You could try not dating your step-siblings," he suggested.

Chuckling, he dodged the cocktail olive Serena threw it at him.

"But I'm your ex-boyfriend, and you see me all the time," Nate pointed out.

"That's different." Serena sighed.

"How?"

"Because I don't want to punch you in your stupid smug face every time I see you, that's why!" Serena said, exasperated.

Blair's laugh caught in her throat when she felt Chuck's hand brush against her knee.

It was obvious, from the sudden tensing of his body, that the touch had been inadvertent.

But his hand lingered, the pads of his fingers just barely resting on her kneecap, as if hesitant. Undecided.

His face remained fixed in an expression of amused interest as he listened to Serena and Nate.

Blair attempted to do the same.

Several long seconds passed.

Then his fingers gently, surreptitiously stroked the inside of her thigh.

The sensation thrummed through her body like an electric current, as if he'd stroked her somewhere far more intimate. She barely had time to disguise her gasp as a cough.

Nate and Serena continued their good-natured sparring, oblivious. Meanwhile, Chuck softly, slowly traced circles along her skin with the tip of his pointer finger.

She remained still only through considerable effort.

Nevertheless, she liked to think that she would've managed to restrain herself, to behave with class and dignity.

If only she hadn't glanced over at him.

And seen, as he lifted his glass to take a sip, the faintest hint of a smirk curling the edge of his mouth.

_So that's how he wants to play this? _She thought.

Her eyes narrowed.

_Oh, game on._

She slid her martini glass over to her left hand. She covertly withdrew her right hand from the table top.

And, in one swift, brazen movement, placed it at the juncture of Chuck's thighs.

His hand froze.

His eyes met hers over the rim of his glass, and she gave him her most guileless smile.

Above the table, he gave no indication anything was happening; below the table, she could feel his muscles go taut.

"I'm just saying, the fact that you're still mad at him means that you're not over him," Nate insisted.

"Or it could just mean that he _deserves_ to have me mad at him," Serena shot back.

Chuck's hand resumed its motion, featherweight strokes of his fingers moving upwards along the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.

Undaunted, Blair curved her fingers around his length, evident through the thin fabric of his trousers, and gave it a single teasing stroke.

His response was gratifyingly swift. He began to harden beneath her hand, his thighs parting instinctively to give her better access.

But in spite of Chuck's obvious arousal, his expression still gave away nothing. He looked for all the world as though he were just relaxing and having a drink with his friends.

"Well, you're holding a pretty serious grudge, given that he didn't con your friends out of all of their money, or stalk you from prison or… crash your car and leave you to be eaten by wolves," Nate pointed out.

"So what, because I've dated a series of…" Serena made a little wave of her hand.

"Complete tools," Nate supplied helpfully.

"Right, so I'm supposed to just get over everything Dan's done because it's not as bad?"

Blair laughed, at what she assumed was an appropriate point in the conversation.

But her attention was now focused entirely on the task at hand. So to speak.

Determined to conquer Chuck's formidable self-control, she began to stroke him in a smooth, steady rhythm; she knew exactly the pace, and pressure, the combination of light touches and firm strokes, to drive him past the point of no return. Within moments, he was fully hard.

And although he was maintaining an admirable façade, she could see that telltale muscle in his jaw starting to clench.

But she faltered when his hand skimmed up her leg, his knuckles brushing against the front of her thong.

Only the flimsiest scrap of fabric now separated his fingers from where she suddenly, desperately, wanted them to be. She found herself holding her breath, her body humming with anticipation, as he lingered along the lace-trimmed elastic.

And then slid one finger beneath it.

"Wait, you're seriously still upset about that?" Nate sounded incredulous.

"Why wouldn't I be? He made me out to be some sort of flaky, shallow bimbo!"

"Whatever, he made me into a… a gay half-character, who was barely even in the story and didn't matter, like, at all, and I got over it."

"Yeah, you sound totally over it," Serena said dryly.

At even the lightest caress, all of the blood in Blair's body had rushed to pool between her legs.

Chuck skimmed his finger across her slick folds, back and forth, stroking, circling. Touching her everywhere except the one place that was throbbing for his touch.

She could feel her hips arching slightly off of the seat, her body disobeying the commands of her brain and straining towards the source of its pleasure.

God, it had been _so long_ since he'd touched her like this. And he knew exactly how to tease her until she was practically out of her mind.

"… I mean, the only person he didn't shit all over was Blair."

All of a sudden both sets of blue eyes had swiveled to land on her.

And it was clear from their expectant expressions that a comment was required.

Chuck regarded her with a raised brow, the mischievous glimmer in his dark eyes the only evidence of what he was still doing to her beneath the table.

"Humphrey's book?" she said, fighting to keep her tone disdainful and her expression composed. "Why would you even care? Everyone knows that was nothing but… self-insert fanfiction."

Nate and Serena both nodded, seemingly none the wiser.

"I think he was just bitter about everything," Serena decided. "And needed to trash me so none of it would be his fault. Because God knows nothing ever is. Anyway…" She rose to her feet. "I'm going to the bathroom. When I come back, maybe we can move on to… happier topics?"

Serena headed off in the direction of the ladies' room. Nate pulled out his phone to check his messages.

"Ugh, this is exactly why I wanted those proofs submitted yesterday," he muttered to himself, a little frown of concentration creasing his forehead as he began typing out a response.

And Blair exhaled a long breath through her teeth, willing the color to recede from her face.

She'd known this wouldn't be easy- in five years, she'd never actually beaten Chuck at a round of Sex Chicken- but she wasn't going down without a fight.

She just needed to adjust her strategy.

With her free hand, she gathered her hair and twisted it onto her left shoulder, tipping her head forward as if to cool off the back of her neck. Then she made a second pass, pretending to capture a few stray hairs, and slowly trailed her fingers along her nape.

As she released a soft, pleasured sigh.

Chuck went completely still- except for his cock, which throbbed against her palm.

When she peeked up at him beneath her lashes, she could see his eyes fixed on her, rapt. She discreetly used the tip of her tongue to trace an arc along her upper lip; her thumb echoed the motion below, along the sensitive head of his cock.

An involuntary swallow moved down the front of his throat.

_Victory._

Blair allowed herself a triumphant little smile.

But her satisfaction was short-lived; moments later, she was smothering a moan into her martini as Chuck slid one, then two, fingers inside of her.

He caressed her clit with his thumb as he thrust slowly, relentlessly, driving her towards her peak. He played her body like a virtuoso, and her mind seemed powerless to intervene.

And she knew he was close- but oh, God, she was closer, and she couldn't hold off much longer. She felt that hot, melting sweetness, her imminent defeat, start to unfurl through her body.

Making a split-second decision, she shot to her feet, causing Chuck's hand to fall away from her.

Her nether regions gave a mighty throb of protest.

Nate looked up, eyebrows raised quizzically.

"I'm going to go dance," she announced- assuming, correctly, that Nate would nod disinterestedly and return his attention to his phone.

She slid out from behind their table, not looking back.

Then she saw, out of the corner of her eye, Chuck rise to follow. Her pulse took off at a gallop.

This was it, she thought, nearly giddy in anticipation. They would find a nice secluded corner of the dance floor, where they could pretend to dance and just make out like a couple of horny teenagers. And then, when they couldn't control themselves any longer, they would go somewhere more private- coat check, closet, hell, she'd even consider an unoccupied bathroom at this point- where they could finally give in to their needs and have one hot, steamy, glorious-

"Hey guys!" Serena chirped, materializing directly in Blair's path. "Where are you off to?"

Blair stared at her dumbly for a second, her brain stalled in the wrong gear.

"Oh, I was just going to go dance," she said finally, praying that her friend wouldn't see straight through her.

"That sounds great! I'll join you."

It was obvious from Serena's wide grin that she was taking a certain perverse delight in thwarting Blair at every turn.

"Are you coming too, Chuck?" Serena asked, her tone all faux-innocence.

"No, I was just…" He cleared his throat. "Just going to the bar."

He ran one hand through his hair, the gesture uncharacteristically flustered.

"Hmm, that's odd," Serena mused, as she and Blair made their way to the dance floor. "He must've forgotten that we have table service."

Blair shot her a glare.

"You know, you really don't need to be breathing down my neck every second we're here," she said pointedly.

"You asked me to keep you two apart." Serena shrugged.

"Yes, but we're in a _public place_."

"That didn't stop you guys from pawing each other under the table back there." Serena laughed at Blair's astonished expression. "Come on, B, you're not _that_ good an actress."

"Yes, well…"

She couldn't actually think of any witty comebacks to that statement.

"If it's any consolation, I'm pretty sure Nate didn't notice." Serena gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder. "Now let's go attract some admirers, shall we?"

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

"_Chuck._"

"Hmm?"

"Are you even listening?"

With a sigh, Chuck shifted his gaze away from the dance floor and back towards his peeved best friend.

"You really like her, she's so different from the other girls you've dated, and she just really _gets_ you," he recited, deadpan.

"Oh, you actually were paying attention." Nate sounded surprised.

"No." Chuck took a long swallow of his drink. "That's the exact same thing you've said about every girl you've been interested in since high school."

"Hey," Nate protested. "That's not… well…"

Chuck raised his eyebrows.

"Okay, fine, maybe I have a pattern," Nate grudgingly conceded. "But she really is different. And I really do like her."

"Then stop overthinking everything." Chuck leaned back and draped one arm along the top of their booth. "You like her, she likes you. Order in dinner, add a bottle of wine and you two will be official by the next morning."

"Maybe…" Nate looked unconvinced.

"Or you could go ahead and Humphrey everything up with a painfully awkward conversation about whether she's your girlfriend." Chuck rolled his eyes. "Your call."

After a moment of silence, Chuck's attention drifted back over towards the dance floor, where Blair and Serena were being chatted up by two men. One of whom was sporting a faux hawk, he noted with amusement.

He watched Blair eye it dubiously.

"So speaking of overthinking things," Nate began. "Why, exactly, are you two not together again?"

Chuck gazed down into his drink, slowly rotating it with his thumb and forefinger, as he pondered the question.

The same question that the little voice in the back of his head had been asking for the past two days.

"Are you still mad at her?"

"I was never mad at her," he said quietly.

He'd been mad, yes. The splintered remains of his favorite humidor could attest to that.

But the majority of his anger had been reserved for himself. After years of fucking up every relationship in his life, repeatedly alienating anyone who got too close to him, he could hardly blame any of them for walking away. And Blair had stood by him through more than any person could be expected to endure.

The rest of his anger, he supposed, had been towards God, or fate, or whatever force of nature had derailed their reunion- which had felt, at the time, like their last chance at happiness together- in the cruelest manner possible.

Leaving Blair traumatized and heartbroken, and him, shut out of her life and helpless to do anything about it.

He'd been hurt, and frustrated, and depressed to the point that his therapist had started gently suggesting medication- but no, he'd never blamed her.

On some level, he'd viewed it as exactly what he'd deserved. His penance, for all of the pain that he'd caused her.

And on another, more visceral level, he'd feared that she'd finally seen the truth: that he simply wasn't worthy of her, and never would be.

"Wait, so if you're not mad at her…" Nate looked confused. "What is this even all about? Is it just the distance?"

"Because you do own a plane," he added in an obvious tone.

Chuck sighed.

"No, it's not the distance."

He could hardly complain about the distance when he'd been the one to put it there.

Part of it, which he'd told Blair, was the need to be okay on his own- if not happy, then at least functional. For her sake as much as his, because she deserved a true partner, not a co-dependent emotional cripple.

And part of it, which he hadn't told Blair, was that he knew she needed the same thing. She needed time to recover from everything she'd been through, and not by throwing herself headfirst into another relationship.

Their relationship couldn't "fix" her any more than it had fixed him.

And this was something that Dan, for all his good intentions, had never figured out- that Blair didn't need to be rescued. She was stronger, and smarter, and more resilient than any of them. All she needed was a chance to pull herself together.

But understanding that on an abstract level didn't make it any easier to keep her at a distance… not when he felt constantly, inexorably drawn to her every moment he was in her presence.

Hell, one little game of footsie under the table, and he'd been ready to follow her into the closest available broom closet.

His erection still hadn't quite subsided, he observed, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

But in a more rational frame of mind, he recognized that those few minutes of bliss wouldn't be worth the consequences: either reconciliation before they were ready, or an awkward clarification of their relationship status that she would interpret as a rejection.

However, if he even attempted to explain all of this to Nate, he knew he'd just get a look of vague bewilderment in response.

"We just have some things we both need to take care of first," he said instead.

Nate sighed wearily.

"Is this one of your weird games? Like the first person to say 'I love you' loses or whatever?" He shook his head. "I just don't get you two sometimes."

Chuck's only response was a wry smile.

The two girls, he noticed, had extricated themselves from their admirers and were now dancing by themselves- Serena, in her typical attention-grabbing whirlwind of hair and legs, and Blair, with a more restrained, elegant sway of her body.

Cool, deliberate, just an occasional glimpse of the sensuality beneath.

It had never ceased to fascinate him.

And there was no harm, he decided, in being fascinated from a distance.

Taking a long swallow of his scotch, he leaned back and settled in to enjoy the show.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Decidedly tipsy, the group finally returned to Chuck's penthouse around midnight. After kicking off shoes, removing jackets, and loosening cravats, they were relaxing on the red leather sectional in the living room.

"So what do you guys want to do?" Nate leaned back and stretched his arms along the back of the sofa. "It's too early to go to bed."

The other three pondered the question for a moment.

"Strip poker?" Chuck offered idly.

Serena rolled her eyes.

"We're not twelve years old anymore, Chuck. Although… " Her expression suddenly brightened. "Oh, we could play 'Never have I ever'," she suggested excitedly. "Remember how much fun that always was?"

"I thought we weren't twelve years old anymore," Chuck murmured.

"And we know pretty much everything about each other already," Blair pointed out.

"_Psh_," said Nate. "Hardly."

Blair regarded him with a raised eyebrow.

"Are you implying that there's more to Nate Archibald than meets the eye?" she teased. "That you have… hidden depths?"

"I might," he said nonchalantly.

"See, it's perfect!" Serena clapped her hands together in glee. "I'll go make the drinks!"

Ten minutes later, the four friends were clustered around the marble-topped bar counter, where Serena had distributed cups of a fruity rum-based cocktail referred to as "Jungle Juice," the recipe for which she'd apparently obtained from a UCLA frat party.

When she held a cup out towards Chuck, he shook his head and swirled the tumbler of 50-year-old single malt in his hand.

Apparently, his broadened horizons in the beverage arena had their limitations.

"Chuck, you can't play this game with Scotch, you'll end up completely shit-faced," Serena objected.

"I appreciate your concern…" He watched with amusement as Blair cautiously sniffed, and then sipped, her Jungle Juice. "…but I think I'll take my chances."

"Well, if you end up passed out on the floor, I'm taking your bed," Nate grinned.

"Okay, so the rules are, you drink if you've done… whatever the thing is," Serena began, "and if you're the only one who drinks, you have to tell the story. So who wants to go first?"

"I'll go." Blair leaned forward onto her elbows, clasping her drink between her palms. "I've never…" she paused deliberately, "…had sex with someone old enough to be one of my _parents._"

Nate groaned.

"Is that how we're playing, really?" He took a swallow of his drink.

Chuck took a sip of Scotch.

Serena looked perplexed.

"Wait, so that's like… fifteen years? So when I was sixteen, that would be-"

"You have, Serena. Trust me." Blair rolled her eyes. "Your turn."

"Alright." Serena thought for a moment. "I've never had sex with someone who actually _was_ someone's parent."

Chuck took a drink.

"What if you're not sure?" Nate asked, his brow furrowing. "I mean, they don't always tell you…"

"You have, Nathaniel. Trust me." Chuck smirked, catching Blair's gaze over Nate's shoulder.

"Alright, I've never… made a sex tape," Nate offered.

"Okay, that's not fair," Serena protested. "I didn't even know it was being recorded, and nobody wants to hear that story again anyway-"

She paused abruptly when she realized that Chuck and Blair were both drinking.

"Oh, right. I should've figured." She raised her cup to take a drink.

Well, not really _a_ sex tape, Blair thought to herself. More like… an anthology of sex tapes.

A compendium of erotic memoirs, perhaps.

She stole another glance at Chuck, wondering if he still watched them.

"My turn?" He thought for a moment. "Does it have to be something I've never done?"

"I can see how that would be challenging for you," Serena said dryly. "But no, it can be anything."

"Then I've never… watched anyone else have sex." He raised his glass towards Serena in a mocking salute, and then took another drink.

She gave him an exasperated look.

"Does it count if it wasn't on purpose?" Nate took a long swallow of his drink. "How strong is this stuff? It doesn't even taste like it has any alcohol in it."

The game carried on for several rounds, covering such topics as same-sex kissing (Chuck and Serena drank), pot (everyone but Blair drank, as she insisted unintentional use didn't count), handcuffs, arrests, sex in public, and faking orgasms.

She could feel Chuck's curious gaze on her when she drank on that particular turn.

True, maybe it should've been a clue that things weren't going to work out with Dan when she'd had to get herself practically blackout drunk to sleep with him. And it _definitely_ should've been a clue when she'd had to half-heartedly pretend to enjoy it.

For some reason, she'd viewed the bad sex as a surmountable obstacle, instead of what it had actually been: a sign from God that their relationship was doomed.

In retrospect, she was rather baffled by her own stubbornness, especially considering that sex with Chuck had still been on the table at that point.

She released a mournful sigh, which caused everyone else to look over at her.

"I was just, uh… never mind," she murmured. "Your turn, Nate?"

"Alright, I've never… joined the mile high club," he said.

"Several times," Chuck murmured over the rim of his glass.

Blair grinned at him over hers.

"I'm sure that's a lot easier when you have access to a private jet," Serena pointed out.

"Fair enough," Chuck arched a brow. "Which is probably why I've never had sex… in the bathroom of a Greyhound bus."

"It was a _Jitney_, Chuck," Serena said in an exasperated voice. "Not a Greyhound."

"A _bus bathroom_?" Blair was horrified. "What, was the floor of Penn Station already taken?"

"It was perfectly clean," Serena said defensively. "And we were hours from home, and… whatever, I'm sure you two have done it in worse places than that."

"Well, there was that janitor's closet at St. Jude's…" Chuck recalled fondly. "My scarf smelled like Pine-sol for weeks."

"Oh, or that warehouse you were going to buy down in Tribeca?" Blair reminisced. "I probably should've gotten a tetanus booster afterwards."

"Okay, this game isn't called 'let's name all the weird places Chuck and Blair have had sex'," Serena interrupted, massaging her temples with one hand.

"Fine, fine." Blair shared a little smile with Chuck over the top of Serena's head. "Let me think of something. So I've never…" she paused for effect, "had a _threesome_."

Having delivered what she'd thought to be a very risqué suggestion, she watched in disbelief as everybody else drank.

"Okay, _you_ I expected." She gestured towards Chuck. "And _you_…" she turned to Nate, "well, women basically strip naked and throw themselves at you, you probably didn't even have to ask. But _seriously_, Serena?"

"What? Just a couple of times. It was fun." Serena shrugged.

"A _couple of times?_" Blair was aghast.

"Nice," Nate said with an appreciative grin.

"Told you," Chuck murmured back.

"Okay, well… you're all disgusting," Blair concluded with a sniff, folding her arms across her chest.

Serena's mouth curved in a knowing smile.

"Oh really?" she said airily. "Well, _I've_ never fantasized about having a threesome with two of the other people in this room."

An outraged gasp escaped before Blair could contain it.

"That was supposed to be a _secret_, Serena," she said indignantly.

Chuck took a sip of his drink, his eyebrows hiking in interest.

"What was supposed to be a secret?" Nate asked, confused, as he took a drink of his own. "I don't get it."

"Don't worry about it, Archibald," Blair said, feeling her entire face flush with embarrassment. "It was… a long time ago."

She refused to meet Chuck's gaze, although she got the distinct impression that he was enjoying her discomfort.

Nate continued to stare at her in puzzlement.

"Okay, well… I've never… masturbated in front of someone," he said.

At this, everyone but Nate drank.

"You know, I can't tell anymore if Chuck is actually responding to the questions, or just continuously drinking," Serena grinned mischievously.

"You wound me, sis," he said dryly. "But I'm sure I can think of something I haven't done. I've never…" he pursed his lips in contemplation. "… been paid for sex."

"Okay, now it just feels like you guys are picking on me," Nate objected, looking disgruntled as he took his drink.

"No need to tell us the story… err, stories," Blair corrected herself. "We're all quite familiar with the saga of Nate Archibald, Male Gigolo. Anyway, I've never… slept with any of my teachers." She sent a triumphant look in Serena's direction.

Who just shrugged as she took her sip. Along with Chuck.

"Does a TA count?" Nate asked.

"Yes, Nate." Blair rolled her eyes. "If you have to ask if something counts, just go ahead and drink."

"I've never…" Serena paused, sending a look of feigned innocence towards Blair, "… slept with two people who are related."

Blair inhaled sharply.

"At the same time?" Chuck asked in a languid voice. "Well, not that it matters…" He took another sip of Scotch.

With narrowed eyes, Blair surveyed Serena's self-congratulatory expression.

"So are cousins not related now?" she inquired.

"Oh… right." Flushing guiltily, Serena cleared her throat and took another drink as well.

"Wait, isn't it my turn? I'm still trying to figure out the last one." Nate was frowning in concentration, as though scrolling through a log of women in his brain.

"Well_ I've_ never slept with anyone who was married," Blair said in a haughty tone.

"And I've never slept with anyone _while _I was married," Serena shot back.

Blair recoiled in indignation. "Well, _I've_ never slept with a convicted felon!"

"Ladies, ladies…" Chuck interjected, after taking a drink for 'convicted felon.' "Sheath your claws."

Blair and Serena eyed each other like boxers who'd retreated to opposite corners of the ring.

"Well, married, yes…" Nate mused and took another drink. "but wait, if cousins count…"

"Look, if you're determined to prove who is, in fact, the sluttiest," Chuck tipped his glass towards the two girls, "I have an idea how we can settle this."

They looked at him expectantly.

"Threesome?" he suggested in a solemn voice.

Blair groaned and Serena rolled her eyes.

"He probably won't even notice we're gone," he added in a conspiratorial tone, gesturing toward Nate with his brows.

"Wait, what?" Nate's eyes, Blair noticed, had started to become distinctly glassy.

"Nothing, nothing," Chuck assured him. "You two talk it over and get back to me," he added in a stage whisper, giving them a lecherous wink.

Serena chuckled and shook her head, and Blair felt herself smile reluctantly.

"You know, I can't believe I'm saying this," Serena mused as she topped up everyone's cups from the pitcher, sloshing a significant amount onto the table in the process, "but I almost… miss your creepiness, Chuck."

"It is one of my finer qualities," he agreed.

"We should hang out like this more often," she went on, picking up steam. "I mean, you're only like six hours away. You could fly to New York and pick us up… and we could go to _Vegas!_" She toasted her own idea and took a large swig of her drink.

"Is it just me…" Nate furrowed his brow, "or are these chairs _really_ hard to balance on?"

Watching Nate tilt rather precariously to one side, and Serena almost miss her mouth with the rim of her glass, Blair suddenly realized that the two had had quite a bit more to drink than she had.

Just like old times, she thought with a little smile.

Although hopefully this particular night wouldn't end with her cleaning vomit out of Serena's hair.

"You know, we've been drinking for a while now, maybe we should eat something," she suggested.

"I could eat," Nate agreed. "How about I call room service?"

Serena sat up straight and clapped her hands together.

"Do you think they have jalapeno poppers?" she asked excitedly.

"Oh, good idea." Nate grabbed for the phone- and then again, when his first attempt missed. "And those little... mini burger things…"

"Sliders, yes! And maybe fries? Wait, do they eat fries with mayonnaise here?"

"I bet they'll send up ketchup. I'll ask for ketchup."

Blair's eyes met Chuck's across the bar, their faces mirror images of wry amusement.

"If you'll excuse me, I need to use the restroom." He cleared his throat. "Make sure you order me some… jalapeno poppers."

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Blair paused in the doorway of Chuck's bedroom.

Given that she'd been trying- and failing- to gain access to it for four days now, it felt like a monumental achievement.

A sense of anticipation thrumming through her veins, Blair stepped over the threshold, her bare feet padding silently onto the thick carpet.

The room was outfitted with simple, modern furnishings. An ebony dresser and bookcase lined one wall; a matching valet stand stood in the opposite corner, next to an oval-shaped full-length mirror. A blue patterned chaise reclined along the far wall, beneath a brightly-hued Kandinksy.

And then there was the centerpiece of the room- an expansive king-sized bed with a padded headboard in dove gray suede. The bed itself was made up with almost military precision, sheet corners ruthlessly tucked in, pillows arranged in a meticulous line.

It wouldn't stay like that for long, Blair decided.

As she continued to survey the room, her gaze skimmed past the nightstand- and then returned to it with a blink of surprise.

Right there, between the reading lamp and the alarm clock, was the framed picture of the two of them on the beach. The picture she'd seen months ago, boxed up and left behind in his penthouse at the Empire.

It was tilted slightly inward, facing the bed instead of the room.

With tentative steps, Blair walked over to the nightstand and picked up the frame. The photo captured such a perfect moment that it was almost painful to look at; the two of them flushed with the exhilaration of young love, basking in their hard-won happiness… certain it would last forever.

She wondered if Chuck even knew how much of himself this picture revealed. He looked relaxed, unguarded, his eyes warm with admiration and a sense of… wonder, almost. As if he were marveling at his own good fortune.

And at that moment, an unexpected stab of longing pierced her so sharply, it nearly took her breath away. All she could think of was everything she'd lost- everything she wanted so desperately to have back.

Absorbed in her thoughts, she didn't even notice Chuck had entered the room until he said her name.

"Oh." She looked up in surprise. "I was just, uh… I didn't realize you'd brought this."

"Because you saw it in the box you rifled through in my closet?" Chuck asked wryly.

Her mouth dropped open in feigned outrage.

"I did not _rifle_ through-" He derailed her denial with a single, skeptical hike of his brow. "Okay fine, I may have seen it there," she admitted.

She returned the picture to the nightstand, and his gaze followed it, lingering for a long moment.

"By the way, I took my pajama top back," she informed him.

He chuckled low in his throat.

Their eyes locked again, and a sizzle of electricity passed between them.

Almost in unison, they both glanced downwards- suddenly, intensely aware that the only thing separating them was a wide expanse of mattress.

She could walk around the bed, she thought to herself. Pull him into a passionate kiss and let nature take its course. Or she could crawl across the bed, grab him by the belt, and _make_ nature take its course.

Or, she could simply climb onto the bed, lean back against the pillows, slowly unzip her dress… and see how long he could hold back before he pounced on her.

And she could finally feel every inch of his body pressed against her. On top of her. Inside her.

God, she wanted him so much, she _ached_.

Suddenly, unbidden, she could hear Chuck's words echoing in her mind.

"_You just decided that you wanted me again, and I'm supposed to be okay with that."_

She closed her eyes and tried to will away the unwelcome memory.

_"Tell me how I'm supposed to be okay with that, Blair."_

The sadness and regret she could still hear in his voice was perhaps the one thing capable of cooling her ardor.

Opening her eyes, she looked up at him and observed what she'd deliberately overlooked before.

The slight glaze to his dark eyes.

The relaxed lines of his normally-taut features.

He could disguise it better than any of them, but Chuck was definitely intoxicated.

And she didn't want their reunion to be the result of a drunken hookup, a lapse in willpower that he might second guess- or even regret- in the morning. She didn't want them to end up back together, not because they were actually ready to be in a relationship again, but because they weren't strong enough to stay apart.

God knew they'd gone down that path enough times already.

This time she wanted him to _choose_ to be with her. To decide, while completely lucid and clear-headed, that this was what he wanted.

Because if she didn't give him the freedom to do that, if she pressured him into a reconciliation before he was ready… it could very well end up like every previous incarnation of their relationship.

And she knew she couldn't bear that.

So Blair mustered every ounce of self-control she possessed, exhaled one last, regretful sigh, and took a step backwards.

"We should probably, um, get back to the party," she murmured.

Chuck cast his eyes downwards, but not before she saw the look of disappointment flash across his face. He inhaled a slow, deep breath, as if forcibly regaining his composure.

"Yeah," he finally agreed, his lips curving up in a regretful smile. "You're probably right."

Even after agonizing over her mature, thoughtful decision, Blair had still been half-hoping he would just throw her down on the bed and have his way with her.

Being mature was the fucking worst, she decided.

"They might actually fall down and hurt themselves without supervision," she added, trying to lighten the mood.

"It's downright embarrassing." Chuck shook his head in mock sorrow. "Nathaniel used to be able to hold his liquor."

"Although," he mused, "If he's drunk enough, maybe we can see if he's interested in fulfilling that… ahem… fantasy of yours."

Blair groaned and covered her face.

"So how did you picture it, exactly?" Chuck tilted his head to one side, grinning at her discomfort. "Would we take turns, or were you thinking something more… simultaneous?"

"I'm going to kill Serena," she muttered into her hands.

Her face was still flushed with embarrassment as she stalked back out to the living room, Chuck following close behind.

Only to find the room looking like a crime scene.

A trail of sticky red liquid led from an overturned glass to the edge of the table, where it was steadily dripping onto one of the bar chairs. Another chair was leaning against the back of the sofa at a 45-degree angle, apparently having lost a battle with an impaired Nate. Serena's heels were strewn haphazardly across the marble floor.

Meanwhile, Serena and Nate were nowhere to be found.

"Maybe they're out on the patio?" Blair ventured.

But she'd barely taken two steps in that direction when an unmistakable giggle stopped her in her tracks. She pivoted, eyes narrowed with suspicion and fixed on the closed guest room door.

Next came the sound of fabric rustling. Then another giggle.

And then… a muffled moan.

"You have _got _to be kidding me," Blair said under her breath.

"Well, this is… ironic," Chuck murmured.

They both stared in bemusement at the closed door for several moments, until the increasingly explicit noises made Blair wince and cover her ears.

"Worst. Chaperones. Ever." She declared.

"Wasn't that the reason we asked them to do it?" Chuck asked wryly.

Their eyes met, and the corner of Blair's mouth tipped upwards in concession.

"Well then." Chuck cleared his throat. "Do you want to take my bed, or would you rather have the sofa?"

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Placing her coffee cup into its saucer with a _clank, _Blair pushed her chair back from the patio table.

"Do you have to make so much noise?" Nate mumbled.

He was slumped forward onto his elbows, his head cradled gingerly in both hands.

"As a matter of fact, I do. Because we're supposed to leave in half an hour, and you two haven't even finished your walk of shame yet. _You-_" Blair gestured towards Serena, "-look like Lindsay Lohan after a weeklong bender, and _you-_" she raised her eyebrows at Nate,"-still haven't managed to put pants on."

"I don't know where they are," Nate said through the hand covering his face.

"I think I saw them …" Serena yawned and dragged one hand through her tangle of blonde hair. "… over by the couch. Monkey was sleeping on them."

"Would coffee do anything to speed this situation along?" Blair asked pointedly.

"Yeah, coffee… that's… yeah." Nate lifted his head and blinked his bleary eyes.

Blair poured coffee into their cups from the carafe, and then sat back, folded her arms across her chest and gave them both a withering stare.

After the night she'd had, she was in no mood to deal with this nonsense.

Chuck had done the gentlemanly thing and taken the couch, so she'd gotten a comfortable bed all to herself, far away from Nate and Serena's drunk sex noises. She'd spent the night in Chuck's king-sized bed, wearing a pair of Chuck's silk pajamas and wrapped in Chuck-scented sheets.

Alone.

It had felt like a particularly diabolical form of torture.

Exhausted from tossing and turning until the early hours of the morning, and sexually frustrated as all hell, she had no qualms about venting her aggravation on the closest available targets.

"You two should be ashamed of yourselves," she said sharply. "You had _one_ job to do. _One_."

"Sorry," Nate muttered, massaging his temples with his thumb and forefinger. "I don't even remember much after… um…"

"Wait, if we failed…" Serena's brow crinkled in confusion, "then why are you in such a bitchy mood?"

"Mmm," Nate agreed. "Sex with Chuck usually, uh…" -he made a vague waving motion with his hand- "…cheers you up."

Serena regarded Blair over her cup of coffee for a moment before understanding flashed across her features.

"Oh, B," she said sympathetically. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, it wasn't… like that…" Blair gave a rapid shake of her head. "It was more of a… mutual… we just both thought that… _shh_, nevermind," she hissed finally, as Chuck made his way out onto the patio and took a seat at the table.

"Good morning," he greeted everyone.

He was dressed casually- pale blue polo, tan trousers, and brightly-colored boat shoes- and appeared well-rested and upbeat, apparently unaffected by the previous evening's debauchery.

A light wind tousled his hair. She eyed it wistfully.

Resolving to shake off her bad mood, Blair went to pour him a cup of coffee, at the exact moment he reached for the carafe himself. His fingers lingered atop hers for just a second too long.

Chuck cleared his throat, and she mumbled an apology under her breath.

It was ironic, she contemplated, how their morning-after awkwardness seemed to result from them _not_ having sex.

"Well." He turned to Nate and Serena with a raised brow. "How are you two feeling this morning?"

"Not… the best," Serena admitted.

"My brain hurts," Nate mumbled into his coffee.

"It should, you gave it quite a workout last night," Blair said derisively. "All of that having to actually remember the women you've had sex with…"

"What?" Nate looked up at her through rumpled bangs, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, I guess we don't have to worry about Nate taking you up on your offer," Chuck said, straight-faced.

"Offer?" Nate echoed, looking back and forth between the two of them in confusion. "What offer?"

Blair's indignant scowl melted as soon as she met Chuck's eyes across the table, and saw that little smirk curling his mouth.

"Mine is still on the table, for the record," he added with mock seriousness.

"Huh?" Serena looked back and forth between the two of them with bleary eyes. "I think I missed something."

Blair hid her own smirk behind a croissant.

God, she'd missed having a snarking partner. The personalities in their foursome complemented each other so well, it always felt slightly off-balance when one of them was absent.

As much as she loved Chuck, she realized, she also just missed him. There was no one else who could make her laugh, calm her neuroses, or read her mind with a single glance, quite the way he could.

And while she hoped this visit would help tide her over until she saw him again… she feared it would just make her feel his absence even more keenly.

But their departure time loomed, and breakfast was a rushed affair. Twenty minutes later, they gathered in the foyer while porters shuttled their luggage down to the waiting towncar.

Goodbyes were said; hugs were exchanged.

The overall mood was subdued. Serena and Nate were obviously feeling under the weather, Blair was focusing all of her energy on not staring forlornly at Chuck, and Chuck just seemed… pensive.

It was only once she stepped onto the elevator and turned around that she finally met his eyes.

And the array of emotions she saw reflected there- doubt, longing, regret, adoration- made her heart catch in her throat.

She couldn't leave things like this, she realized. If she did, she would spend the entire flight home regretting it. And if this was going to be goodbye for another three months, maybe even longer, then she was damn well going to make it a goodbye to remember.

In a split-second decision, Blair darted out between the closing elevator doors, ignoring Nate's bewildered "wait, where are you-" and barely evading Serena's outstretched arm.

The elevator doors slid shut behind her with a _whoosh_, leaving her alone with Chuck in the foyer.

They regarded each other for a long moment.

The tension in his expression, she noted, had been replaced with a hint of amusement.

"Did you forget something?" Chuck asked wryly.

"… Yes."

"What's that?"

In three quick steps, Blair covered the distance between them. She slid her hands up his chest, along his shoulders, up the back of his neck, into his hair. Then she pulled his head down- not that she needed to, he was already tilting his head to meet her…

… and finally, _finally_ kissed him.

It was exhilarating and comforting, familiar and brand-new, all at once.

Their lips moved in perfect unison. Their bodies fit together as though they recognized each other. Their tongues stroked and parried, eliciting a soft moan of approval from one of them- she wasn't sure who.

His hands encircled her waist to pull her tighter against him, and she rose up on tiptoe, threading her fingers deeper into his hair, desperate to get as close as possible.

It didn't feel like they were kissing for the first time in months. It felt like they were resuming a kiss interrupted only minutes ago.

A hot, ardent kiss, full of barely-restrained yearning.

And yet, after everything they'd been through, this sweet, simple pleasure felt almost like a revelation- like they were rediscovering each other all over again.

Blair didn't want it to ever end.

Which is why she ignored the _ding_ of the elevator, and the opening doors. And the impatient drumming of fingers against the railing.

And finally, Serena's pointed cough.

Only then did Blair slowly, reluctantly pull away. First she sank down onto her heels, then she let go of his hair. Then she allowed her hands to slide back down to neck, his shoulders, to his chest. And then, finally, she broke off the kiss. She released his lower lip last of all, scraping her teeth against the inside of it as she did so.

Just to give him something to think about for the rest of the afternoon.

The doors started to close again, emitting another _ding_ as someone jammed a finger against the "door open" button.

"So should we go, or…" Nate said, amused exasperation in his voice.

"Just a minute."

Blair paused for one last moment, lifting a hand to Chuck's face and stroking her thumb along his cheekbone. He stared down at her, his eyes warm and dark and still slightly dazed from their kiss, as if he couldn't bear to look away.

"Come home soon, Bass," she murmured.

With that, she turned and strode towards the elevator. There was a bounce to her step, a certain buoyant lightness in her chest, that she hadn't felt in ages.

It felt a lot like… happiness.

For the first time in a long time, she thought it might be almost within reach.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

A/N: This ended up being so long that my brain is basically out of words, but the chapter looks naked without an author's note… so… big thanks to everyone who's encouraged me to keep working on this. I really appreciate all the support, and hopefully it was worth the wait. Well, nothing's really worth waiting a year and a half for, but hopefully you enjoyed it anyway, haha.

Special thanks to Maryl and her endless encouragement/pestering, and of course my beta Terrabeth (who's also written some fabulous stories, in case you're not familiar with them).

And as always, reviews make my day :)


End file.
